


The Unending Wake

by harellanart (kabeone)



Series: The Unending Wake Universe [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Time Travel AU, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:00:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5215334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabeone/pseuds/harellanart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas has won and his long time enemy, the cold and ruthless Inquisitor Vir Lavellan, has been defeated. However, as he begins to rebuild the world for his people, he discovers that the world he destroyed was not exactly what he had thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> Contains Dragon Age Inquisition Trespasser Spoilers. This originally appeared on my tumblr, though there may be some changes and editing. Most of the posts were very short and may have been consolidated into a single chapter.

They held the prisoner at his request in the chamber where she had been captured. At his orders, she had been searched for weapons then bound and shielded with magic. It was unfortunate to treat even a prisoner that way, but Vir had proven far too dangerous to allow for carelessness. 

She had come alone as far as they could discover. Somehow she slipped past every trap and barrier as if she already knew where they would be.

It was a futile attempt. Had she managed to get past the final ward to touch the new orb, she would have burned in place. The orb itself would have been unharmed. He had been careful in its reconstruction, he did not make the same mistakes twice. Still, it was commendable that she had gotten so far. Despite his disagreement with her methods and attitude, he had come to admire how she rallied nearly every nation against him, deftly manipulating their leadership in her attempt to thwart him.

She did not move when he entered the room. To his senses physical and magical, she may as well have been dead. But he knew she was aware of him. She was always aware, as several of his assassins would attest had they been alive to do so.

He no longer needed to fight with her. He would be as kind as he was able even though part of him was happy to see the end of someone with such an endless capacity for cruelty.

“If you would prefer to have your life end now, it can be done. I would not see you suffer unnecessarily.”

“If it’s all the same to you,” she replied, her voice devoid of all but resignation. “I would stay and watch until the end.”

“Very well.” He allowed. “It is unlikely, but there is a small chance that you will survive.”

She laughed then. A pitiful, hysterical, trill of a laugh. “That would be most painfully ironic,” she said to the floor.

Some strange part of him felt the need to offer her comfort. “You have fought well for your people. You should know I take no joy in this.”

Her lips pressed together and her hand clenched for several seconds before she finally raised her head to speak. “If the ends are to justify the means, then failure is unacceptable.”

“That is why the ends do not justify the means.” He said quietly as their eyes met. He had thought her an arrogant fool when they silently parted ways after their victory against Corypheus. But her ruthless stewardship of the Inquisition had offered Thedas more peace than it had experienced in centuries. So he saved her when the Qunari invaded and she repaid him in blood. Revealing his plans had been a mistake and he underestimated her at every turn until it had almost been too late. There was fire and intelligence in her spirit, he often wondered if he had been wrong about her kind. Vir’s lips twisted into a cruel and knowing smile as if she could read his thoughts.

“Say that while you destroy a world full of people because you couldn’t accept the consequences of your mistakes. I hope our sacrifice makes you and your people happy.”

He recoiled. “What do you know of sacrifice?” He demanded, growing defensive despite his resolve not to engage with her. While he had known her, she had only looked for her own power and used every opportunity to gather more. She manipulated people and resources to her own advantage then cast them aside when they were no longer useful. She despised everything he cherished and made sure that he knew it.

“As if I would ever tell you.” The resignation in her voice returned as did her gaze to the floor in front of her.

He shook his head and turned without another word.

With the new orb his task was simple. He closed his eyes visualizing the Veil and began its unraveling. He had only a vague notion of how someone like Vir would be affected by its loss. Even the mages of this time, modern elves, humans, and qunari alike, would have difficulty with the transition. Most of them would perish as well. The air heated as the life of the Fade came rushing back into the physical realm. He spared a glance for Vir.

She stared into the distance as her essence unraveled, stripped away by green flames. The elves guarding her glowed too, but their faces were transformed in joy as the sense of rightness in the world returned. He must have looked the same because Vir’s eyes met his through the chaos and her expression changed. Peace filled her features and a smile touched her lips. He could not look away as she whispered her final words while the last of her essence disappeared.

Time shifted freely now. He pulled his attention back to his task and began to rebuild the world for his people. He could not restore the lost lives, but he could restore life. There would be a place for his people as they woke. The keeper spirits of the Vir Dirthara would be one with themselves once again. They would help him rebuild the rest as they remembered what once was.

The storm weakened as the Fade reached equilibrium with the physical world. There would still be work to do, but it was enough for now. He looked back at the guards and smiled as they crossed the room to aid him. Even as he leaned against one in exhaustion, he felt the Fade returning his strength. They smiled in congratulations and helped him from the room. As they passed the place Vir had knelt, a small dark shape caught his eye.

“Were you able to hear what she said?” Solas asked curiously as one of them bent to retrieve the object.

“Var lath vir suledin.” Came the reply.

As the greatest threat to his operations, he had monitored her every move. She had not maintained more than casual friendships much less taken a lover of any kind. “Surprising.” He said slowly. “If she had been capable of such feelings for someone, she should have spent her last moments with them.” He shook his head. “What a waste.”

The guard nodded agreement and handed Solas the object he had retrieved. Vir had been wearing a small piece of blackened bone bound by a double loop of leather. He frowned. He had owned something like it once, but could not recall the last time he had seen it. It was strange, but a puzzle to be solved later. For now, he would focus on the present.


	2. A Dream Come True

_Andaran atish’an._  Solas closed his eyes savoring the words. It meant “enter this place in peace,” but also, “this is my place and yours as well, we are kin” and also “this place is safe” and also “do not bring war here, for this place is mine.” At long last the ones who spoke it meant it and the ones who heard it understood. Laughter rang out above him as spirits rebuilt the paths of the Vir Dirthara. No steps like these would ever have existed in Thedas and no mortals could climb them, but now…

_Fen'Harel._

He turned to find a spirit next to him, it wavered slightly as if its form was still uncertain. It was the Archivist, still recovering from being separated from itself for so long. He offered it some of his memories of the time when it was one. Its form stabilized, still shifting, but not quite so chaotically.

 _You asked me to send for you if we discovered any problems._  He nodded for it to continue. _We have found an eluvian. It goes to a time that does not exist._

He frowned. Alternate realities were dangerous, they were not the same as different perspectives. An alternate reality could damage or trap the spirits that wandered into them.

 _"_ We must heal the damage wherever we can. Seal the eluvian then destroy it."

_We cannot._

He tilted his head in surprised confusion. Such a thing would have been difficult before, but should not be the case now.  _"_ Why"

_The eluvian is tied to some part of your spirit. We cannot destroy it without more power._

He nodded, he had expected something like this. "We discovered that Corypheus had been trying to alter time while he possessed my orb. That would cause an alternate timeline to be tied to me," he concluded and  held out his hand. "The new orb appeared above it. He offered it to the Archivist, it was certainly trustworthy enough. "Seal the eluvian with this. I will destroy it when I have more time to focus."

_We cannot._

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

_There are too many._

"How could…" he shook his head, it would not be able to answer that. "How many?"

_At last count, over one thousand, we have not counted them all._

His blood ran cold. "Take me to them."

 


	3. Time After Time

The eluvians stretched into parts of the Fade he had not yet examined. Solas wondered what could have created such a tangle of universes. Had Corypheus found yet another escape from death? Had the Darkspawn Magister hidden a piece of himself in an alternate realm rather than perish. The Inquisitor had used the mark to send him into the Fade. Perhaps a part of his essence had survived that way. His lip curled in disgust that even now the woman would hinder his plans. She was probably laughing at him somewhere if there was anything left of her at all.

He gathered his power and used his orb to reinforce his shield. If he had to defeat Corypheus himself a thousand times or more to seal these tiny worlds he would. He stepped through the nearest and found himself at Haven.

The sky was sundered once again and parts of what was left of the Temple of Sacred ashes rose into the sky. The Inquisitor rode with the small band of forces that had returned with her from the Temple of Mythal. He watched them kick up dust from the rubble on the ground.

He stood in the shadows of the ruins, it would be unfortunate if his alternate self were to see him. The others he need not worry, even the mages of the Inquisition had only a superficial connection to the Fade.

As they came closer he could see small differences between this world and his own. It was to be expected, as Corypheus changed the world, the Inquisition would adapt. This time he rode beside the Inquisitor. His face wore an expression of determination mixed with hope. He was only too familiar with the feeling. As the Inquisitor barreled past him he saw her face. Vir wore the same look of confidence he had come to both despise and begrudgingly respect, but something was wrong. It was impossible.

Her vallaslin was gone.

Solas watched and waited, trying not to focus on the Inquisitor’s face. Was she not Dalish? Had she shunned their traditions? The Vir of his world had been a devout believer in the pantheon, absolutely certain of her people’s  superiority, and outright refused to listen to anything that went against their beliefs. The magister’s influence should have been able to change certain outcomes, but not a person’s basic nature.

He forced his attention back to the present lest he be caught off guard. While there was little danger for him here, he stood outside the events that occurred, it was still a possibility. The Fade contained limitless dangers and time itself was flexible.

He expected something different, a new tactic or a stronger ally. He expected to see Corypheus do something that would cause an alternate reality to form, but the end was the same as he remembered. He watched himself pick up the shattered fragments of the orb, reliving the wrenching loss and the realization of what must come next. Solas was too far to hear what the Inquisitor said, but he moved closer as his image spoke.

“You were right to be angry,” he watched himself say. “I hope, in time, you will understand.”

For a wild moment he considered asking himself what could have possessed him to say that. It was even possible that he would be able to see himself and answer, but he held back. Any version of himself would demand equal answers in exchange and that could be disastrous for his own timeline.

He found his way back to the field of eluvians and wondered what else he would find.

 

Half a dozen mirrors shattered behind Solas as he strode away from the field of eluvians. The fractured remnants slowly disappeared as their last connection to his world was severed. As that connection, their destruction tore at his essence. It hurt, much like the act of scrubbing away grime could abrade the skin. He was happier for the loss, but still disgusted that it was ever there.

Corypheus had not caused these alternate worlds. It was  _her_ , Inquisitor Lavellan, Vir, who he saw each time he passed through a portal. He would witness a small part of her life that took place between receiving the mark and a short time that followed the Magister’s defeat. He could have followed her through each instance. He could have watched her for years, but the exercise would have been pointless. In every world he found a different woman from the one he had known.

The Vir Lavellan of his world was selfish, vengeful, and hungry for power. She ignored everyone but her fellow Dalish and only made alliances that furthered her own interests. The women he found in the other worlds were strangers wearing her face. Those Inquisitors helped people, befriended their allies, they even treated him with respect. 

Was that how she saw herself? He should not have been surprised. Every tyrant saw himself the hero. It made perfect sense that she was capable of such ruthlessness when she only felt she was doing right.

He returned to his reconstruction efforts without a backward glance. He could deal with the rest of eluvians later. For now, he had more important things to do than contemplate the delusions of the late Inquisitor.

 

The Archivist was waiting for him.

 _Fen'Harel._ She said.

He was about to ask about their progress, but changed his mind. “Have you encountered an alternate world before?”

_There have been four in our memory that we have recovered._

He raised a brow, “Only four in all that time?”

_Yes._

“What caused them?”

_A catastrophic event that altered the path of a single individual._

He frowned. “So it was the same person, only different results?”

_Yes._

“Could the event change their nature? Alter their morals or perhaps their spirit?”

_It did not._

He pursed his lips, unsatisfied with what he had seen. Part of him wanted to dismiss it all, but the thought itself rang false. He needed to know. Mind made up, he walked toward an Eluvian. His magic reached out unlocking it. The Fade twisted into a bridge between here and where he wanted to go. The Archivist followed at his side waiting for instructions.

“Tell the others I may be away for some time.”

 _Where are you going?_  It asked.

“Skyhold.” He answered as he reached the eluvian and stepped through.


	4. Her Road Few and Fell

Solas arrived at the familiar hall, now empty of any living inhabitants.

With the Fade now connected to the physical world, time flowed in both directions. He need only guide his mind to when he wanted to go. He closed his eyes and focused on a familiar day, the one he would never forget. The pain began to draw him without prompting, but it was not exactly what he wanted. He forced himself past it, a few days before then was what he truly needed.

The Inquisitor had gone somewhere on her own without telling anyone. It was something she had done on numerous occasions and her advisors had given up on warning her of the danger. By the time they defeated Corypheus, they all had resigned themselves to being left ignorant of her plans. He did not know where she had gone, but if he could catch her leaving he could follow.

He stood in the empty hall watching a door that would never open, but he also stood in a hall lit warmly by braziers at all hours. Ghostly banners patterned with Dalish motifs hung from the eaves matching the Dalish themed drapes that covered the windows. The memory of a door overlaying the door opened. The Inquisitor slipped away silently.

It was still dark outside in this memory as she made her way to the stables. Normally, the giant red hart was her beast of choice. It had been a gift from another clan and the only one she deemed worthy of riding. On this day, she walked past it to the far end of the stables where a single mount was kept isolated from the others.

The creature unnerved the stable hands and the other mounts. In truth, even he did not venture close to the thing they had called a “bog unicorn.” Whether it was the spirit of a battle mount that would not depart or a spirit of battle that wanted to be a horse, the undead creature refused to be dismissed.  

She saddled it herself, bowing to it as if they had an understanding, and set out at speed to her secret destination.

Solas considered her direction as he watched her ride out the gates. There was only one path out of Skyhold for some distance. He would not lose her here, but it would be difficult to keep up, unless… He smiled a little despite himself. He had not taken the form in many years, but travel would be more natural as something other than an elf.

A massive shadow on four legs loped past the silent gates of Skyhold tracing the path of the Inquisitor’s memory.

 

Two eyes for the present, two for the future, and two for the past. The last were the ones he needed, he kept the others shut.

Solas followed Vir to the Exalted Plains. The Inquisition claimed no territory in the area, not even a proper forward camp. The Inquisitor had been informed of the strange events surrounding the deadlocked Orlesian civil war, but she had not yet deigned to investigate. Still, something compelled her to go there without the protection and scrutiny of her people.

She traveled tirelessly, pushing herself to ride without rest for days. He understood now, her choice of mounts. The bog unicorn needed neither sleep nor food, it only needed to run, and she gave it that freedom at cost to herself.

She followed the path of a river and found a clearing familiar in his mind. With a growing sense of dread, he followed her past a rock formation he had memorized, a ruin he recognized, he knew these places because he had seen them in a nightmare accompanied by a desperate cry for help. Vir did not slow as she passed a body riddled with arrows, but stopped when she found another. This one had died of wounds not inflicted by mortal hands.

Vir swore under her breath as she dismounted. She inspected the body briefly, but seemed only resigned not surprised. She opened a pouch on her saddle and retrieved a number of dangerous looking vials. She gripped them tightly in one hand as she drew a long dagger in the other. She steeled herself for a moment then proceeded down the hill.

In the distance, a rough set of stone pillars marked the location where a summoning ritual had been performed. Solas returned to elven form and fell to his knees.

“No,” he whispered staring in horror. His friend had called to him only the night before. He had spent the morning seeking a way to reach Wisdom, to free her from their bindings, but it would have been too late. Whatever they had done, transformed her into a demon.

A man approached Vir, a mage by the look of his robes. Solas wondered if he had requested her help. The possibility, along with its accompanying uncharitable thoughts, were dismissed when he spoke. 

“You’re not with the bandits? Do you have any lyr-” Vir elbowed him aside.

“Stay out of my way.” She said roughly then smashed all the vials on herself at once. She let the flames soak into her jacket before she launched herself at the Pride demon.

Solas could do nothing but watch.

 

Solas knew that Vir would kill the demon. She was, if he allowed, remarkably good at killing demons. He wondered for an insane moment if he could do something to stop her, but instead of landing near enough to strike, she had leaped to the first binding. Her blades were a blur that left only dust and shattered rock in her wake. She avoided the demon’s attacks as she broke each binding until all but the last one remained. It stood intact directly behind the demon.

The flames of her concoction began to wear off, but she was not finished. She sprinted forward despite her obvious fatigue, angling her movement to force the demon to turn. Pride lashed out with a whip of power and Vir dove to avoid it, but it followed the attack with a blast of energy that tracked her movement across the ground. There was no way for her to escape.

“Damn it.” She screamed sheltering her head as the ground around her exploded. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

She rolled to her feet as soon as the earth settled and threw both of her daggers at the demon. It was, it seemed, a futile gesture and in any case the demon dodged them both easily. The blades flew past the twisted spirit, scoring the final column that bound it. Now with only a tiny utility knife in hand, Vir dove behind a pile of rock, an absurd shelter under the circumstances, and curled up into the smallest target she could manage. The demon laughed and lumbered toward her preparing to strike again. As the demon’s movement strained the last binding, the final column broke under its own weight.

Vir lay on her side whimpering in pain and fear, but the killing blow never came. The demon was no longer and Wisdom knelt in its place. She began to crawl to the spirit, dragging herself along painfully with nothing but stubbornness to carry her. It was only when she reached Wisdom that she used a healing potion to recuperate. It did little, but allowed her enough strength to sit up rather than collapse.

Solas had been ready to run to his friend and damn the consequences to the timeline, but Wisdom spoke to Vir and her words froze him in place.

“I did not think I would see you again.”

Wisdom had spoken elven and Vir answered in kind. Not the modern elven the Dalish spoke, with its odd pronunciation and limited vocabulary. She spoke it fluently with the inflection and accent he would expect from one of his own people. “I don’t think he would ask me for help this time and I couldn’t just leave you here.”

“You have won his ire.”

“Ire.” Vir repeated, “Yes.”

“It pains you.”

Vir bowed her head until it touched her knees. Her shoulders shook. When she raised her head and spoke, there were unshed tears in her voice. “How small the pain of one woman seems when weighed against the endless depths of memory.”

“That sounds like something he would say.”

“He did once, long ago.” She scrubbed at her face and sniffled. “I wish Cole were here.”

Solas remembered Cole. He was the spirit of Compassion that helped the Inquisitor escape the clutches of an Envy demon. Vir had sent him away. She pretended she did not even remember him. Solas remained trapped in place as his understanding of the past decade was turned on its head.

Vir and Wisdom sat in silence while Vir recovered what she could of her energy. “Will you be able to help me?” Wisdom asked.

Vir nodded and moved closer to the spirit. “I’m not a mage. I cannot free you gently. I’m sorry.”

“Your mercy is as gentle as the wind, Lethallan. Thank you for coming.”

“Let this be the last time.” Vir drew her blade and pressed it into the spirit’s heart. She caught Wisdom’s body and helped her gently to the ground. She watched Wisdom disappear as her essence returned to the Fade. Vir rocked herself back and forth, hugging the blade close to her chest.

The mages had returned timidly once the battle was over. The one who had first spoken approached, but she did not allow him a chance to speak. That such a short dagger could sever such a large head was enough to momentarily distract Solas from his grief. The mage’s head rolled end over end stopping at the foot of one of his cohorts. The shriek Vir emitted in their direction could not have been labeled a word, but the meaning was clear.

 _Run_.

They did.

 


	5. Dalish Business

Vir was in poor shape. The four day journey without rest, the battle, even the flasks she used to enhance herself, had left her grievously wounded. The bog unicorn found her and knelt at her side, allowing her to climb onto its back. It carried her to the water’s edge and across the river as if it knew where to take her. Solas could see the red sails of an aravel in the distance.

Vir dropped off the back of her mount, sending it away with a gentle pat. She limped the rest of the way to the fluttering sails and stumbled into the camp on the last of her energy. Surprised at her sudden appearance, but recognizing one of their own, they hurried to care for her.

Solas watched the small clan with little to spare do their best to save a stranger. The sight left him as uneasy as everything else he had witnessed in the past few days. Vir woke after two days, rough, but well enough to introduce herself to the Clan Keeper as the leader of the Inquisition. She offered what help she could give in repayment. They mentioned being low on supplies but insisted that she was still too weak to be of any service to them.  

Vir left on the third day, still in no condition to travel. The Keeper tried to hold her back, but when the undead mount walked into camp to retrieve her, they let her go.

 

Vir arrived at Skyhold twelve days after she left. She was barely able to ride when she drew within sight of its towers. She downed the last of her potions in quick succession then urged her beast into a gallop. She sauntered into the main hall as if she had only been out for an afternoon ride. Shoulders back, swaying hips, and a lazy smile that masked the pain of every step. She pulled up a chair and fell into it, somehow managing to make it look as if she sprawled that way on purpose.

Solas had witnessed this part of the memory personally, but he had been so engrossed by Vir’s charade that he did not see himself enter the hall from the rotunda. His image walked straight past him and pretended to examine a book someone left next to the fireplace. Relieved that he would not have to hide or explain his presence, he moved closer to better observe the Inquisitor.

The others found their way into the hall, having received word of Vir’s return. Her inner circle gathered according to their natures. Her fighters crowded in and sat at the other end of the table, her mages lurked at the edges of the hall pretending only mild interest, and her advisors stood formally somewhere in between.

“Welcome back, Inquisitor.” Josephine said, diplomatic as always. “We heard you went to the Exalted Plains… by yourself.”

“Dalish business.” Vir replied. “By the way,” she produced a scrap of paper from her pocket, “I need you to get the supplies on this list to a Dalish clan down there as soon as possible.”  

Josephine accepted the list, nodding easily until she reached the end. “This kind of leather is not easy to come by. It would be either dangerous or expensive to procure.”

“You’ll find a way,” Vir said with a smile that never reached her eyes. The comment had not been a compliment.

“Of course,” Josephine agreed. “I also have some items for you to review and sign.”

“I’m supposed to review them first?” Vir said blinking innocently. Josephine was too diplomatic to sigh.

“Have you been fighting?” Cullen asked noting the scratches on her face. Of all the advisors, he was the one who appreciated the Inquisitor most. Of course, she had saved the Templar Order and allowed them a full partnership with no strings attached. She also preferred military solutions over diplomatic ones. It was only natural that he appreciated her.

Vir snorted and dismissed his concern. She called to Vivienne, “Some idiot apostates summoned and bound a Pride demon. It almost killed them.”

Vivienne crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “Typical.”

Solas watched the memory of himself inhale sharply. He remembered the pain of the moment too clearly. He had wanted to ask what had happened, who the mages were, but he held back. She would either mock him for his “demon worship” or ignore him entirely.

“A demon.” Iron Bull repeated with a shudder. “Did you kill it?”

Vir shrugged. “What else do you do with a demon?” Solas relived the moment even as he observed it. She had spoken to Iron Bull, but she was looking directly at him. She met his eyes and bared her teeth as if she knew exactly what she had done. Solas remembered forcing himself to leave the room before he could do something regrettable.

It was the precise moment he had learned to hate her.


	6. Causality

Solas followed Vir back to her quarters where there was a stack of paperwork waiting on her desk.  

She moved slowly once she was alone. She pulled off her jacket and shirt, or rather, cut off her shirt because it stuck to her skin and bandages. Her stitches had pulled open at some point and her bandages were soaked. She sat heavily at her desk and retrieved a medical kit from a drawer. Solas watched as she sewed herself up with a heated needle, a feat that made even him a bit queasy. She redressed her wounds efficiently then downed a few draughts of elfroot, chasing it with a swig from a bottle of Golden Scythe 4:90 Black.

Then, after sitting at her desk with her eyes closed, she began leafing through the documents Jospehine left her to sign. She sorted correspondence and contracts into two separate stacks and began with the contracts, scrutinizing each with a critical eye. It was evident that her disdain for reading had also been a ruse.

“You…  _lied_ to me.” Solas all but sputtered.

Vir raised her head and looked straight at him, for a moment she seemed surprised, then the corner of her mouth twitched. “Only by omission.”

Solas dismissed the vision quickly. He cast his magic, searching for another mage or a spirit. There had to be an explanation. The Inquisitor had no magic, save the mark. She was a hairbreadth from one of the Tranquil. Whatever it had been, it did not seem hostile. Though in his opinion, appearing less hostile than the Inquisitor was not that difficult. He set up wards around the area and carefully insinuated himself back into the past.

The Inquisitor was still at her desk but the piles of finished paperwork and the half empty bottle of Scythe indicated she had been there for at least a few hours. He cast another spell, one designed to show a spirit that he meant no harm. It had no effect and she showed no evidence of noticing. He approached cautiously and passed a hand in front of her face several times, snapping his fingers, and covering her work. He began to feel foolish, so much for magical expertise. He sighed. Was it a fluke? Had the combination of potions, pain, and alcohol allowed her to see into the Fade for but a moment?

“I’m not bothered by that because I can see through your hand.” She said after she signed a final sheet of paper.

He stepped backward and cast his senses into the Fade past and present. She waited, watching him, occasionally glancing around her as if she were expecting him to attack. He sensed nothing out of the ordinary.

None of the memories that remained from the time of the Veil had been able to see him. Except her. It was fascinating enough that he momentarily forgot who he was talking to. “What are you? How can you see me?”

She considered the question soberly and replied with none of her usual sarcasm. “I am exactly what you thought: a thief, a liar, a murderer,” she held up her left hand, “and a terrible mistake. As to how I can see you?” She shrugged and made a face. “How should I know? I’m not the Fade expert here.”

“Could you always see me, even in the hall?”

“I… see a lot of things sometimes.”

“And this,” he waved a hand at himself, “my being here, does not surprise you in any way?”

“It’s not the first time I’ve seen something like you watching me. Usually whatever it is just stands around looking sad. None of them actually spoke though. That one’s new.”

He considered her words. It was possible that the mark allowed her to see spirits, or memories in the Fade. She was connected to it in a way that even mages were not. There were so many questions he wished to ask, but one stood out above the rest. “How did you know Wisdom?”

A look of sorrow as deep as his own crossed her face before she looked away. When she looked back the expression was gone. “I have seen her before as well. Beyond that, you don’t need to know.” She stood slowly, careful of her injuries, and gathered her contracts and letters.

“Where are you going?” He asked as she moved toward the stairs.

“I have to give these to Josephine. Then I thought I’d check on,” she waved her hand both at him and the door, “well… you.” The corner of her mouth turned up again. “I thought I’d give you a chance to yell at me.”

He remembered that conversation, there had been so few between them. He touched his cheek reflexively and spoke without thinking. “You hit me.”

“I did?” She seemed surprised.

“You didn’t know?”

“It hasn’t happened for me yet.” Her eyes flashed with what he thought was amusement or perhaps it was anticipation. “Thanks for the tip.”

He watched her walk down the stairs. When she reached the door she took a breath, squared her shoulders, and dropped a mask of bored indifference over her face. She walked out that way, looking like a completely different person than she had been a minute before.

Solas let go of the memory and returned to his time with more questions than answers. But there was work to be done, and he would not allow the Inquisitor to distract him any further.


	7. Compassion

Solas immersed himself in the work of the People’s recovery. The Vir Dirthara was well on its way to completion. It had been one of his favorite places and no one could blame him for rebuilding it first. It would take time before it would be filled with all the wonders of their new world, but that time was readily available now.

His people were returning slowly, but he stayed away. After their long exile, many still blamed him for their suffering and he could not deny the truth in that. It did not bother him to stand apart. Even before the Veil, he had freed them from slavery, declared them all equals, led them in war, and healed them through injury, but he had never walked among them simply as a friend.

His true friends, the ones he had always known, were safer now. Together, they were finding the spirits that were beyond help and keeping them away from those who would be vulnerable.

He watched as a spirit of Inspiration directed elves in the placement of crystal spires. This new city would not be Arlathan. Not only was the place beyond their collective memories, but the spirits had been influenced by the dreams of mortals. Touches of Orlesian architecture curved the windows in new ways, billowing streamers made of light matched Rivaini colors, and armor inspired by Avvar warriors were cut for elven stature. It seemed the world created by the Veil had contained beauty to contribute after all.

There were, of course, survivors of the former world. They consolidated their power and warred among themselves. As he predicted, few had truly believed the Inquisitor’s warnings. It was only her deft manipulation that allowed them to slow him at all. Once she was gone, they returned to bickering, blaming their gods and each other for their situation.

The dwarves were a different story. No wars, no trade, no word. There was no news out of Orzammar and even the Deep Roads were silent. For now, he was content with that and he hoped his people never ventured to that place again. The blight was still a threat, but one they would face when they were ready.

A flurry of activity among the spirits caught his attention. He hurried to them as they attempted to support what looked like a human. His body was that of a young man, but he felt like a spirit.

“Cole.” Solas said recognizing the spirit made flesh. He darted forward to catch him before he fell. He was injured somehow, but not visibly. It was as if the memory of past wounds were killing him.

“Battered, broken, bruised, bleeding, the Veil passed through me, instead of me through it. I tried to let go of the parts the Fade didn’t want, but I can’t. She said you could help me.”

“Who did?” Solas asked as he tried unsuccessfully to strengthen him with magic.

“ _I want you out of here, Cole. Leave the Inquisition before I have you destroyed._  She said the words but she let me see the other ones.  _I’m sorry, Cole, the path I walk has no room for Compassion. Find Solas when this is over. He will help you._  I tried to make her forget, but there were too many memories to erase.”

Cole began to fade in his arms then solidified again. He turned and coughed blood onto the ground. The other spirits swirled around them in distress, urging him to do something. Solas gathered Cole in his arms and picked him up. He carried the spirit back to the eluvian that led to Skyhold.

If Vir had pledged his help, she would have to do her part.

Solas carried Cole to the Inquisitor’s former quarters at Skyhold. He lay the spirit on the couch and searched for the sharp spikes of pain and anger that marked his time in the Inquisition. He cast himself into the past bringing Cole with him. He hoped the boy was still spirit enough to withstand the journey without losing more of himself.

He found the Inquisitor at her desk once again. Cole coughed, startling her. She peered in their direction. Once she realized what she was seeing, she got up and rushed to Cole’s side. She reached out to touch the spirit, but her hand passed through his arm.

“Cole?” She asked and looked at Solas. “What happened to him?”

“He’s dying and he said that you pledged him my aid.” He tilted his head to the side, “So tell me, Inquisitor, how do I help him?”

“I crossed the Veil but now it’s gone,” Cole said between coughs, “I can’t cross back if it’s not there. I am me, but I am less now, instead of more.”

Vir blinked at Cole then looked back at Solas, “The Veil is gone? Is that… is that  _when_  you’re from?”

Solas ground his teeth, unwilling to risk answering. Cole spoke instead, “He wants to help, but he doesn’t know what will happen if he tells you. It’s alright, you can let me die.”

“No.” Solas and Vir said at once.

Vir swore under her breath. “Cole is a spirit of Compassion that tried to help a young mage by the same name. A Templar had locked him in a cell and forgot he was there so he starved to death. Somehow Cole became him. You have to help Cole forgive the Templar and forget that part of himself.”

Solas considered her words. However it was that she knew the situation, her answer made some sense. He wondered if she knew everything about the Veil coming down. He pushed the thought aside and focused on the task in front of him. He knelt next to Cole and reached out with his magic to the parts of Cole’s memory that did not belong to his spirit. He tried to smooth them away.

Cole shouted in pain.

Solas turned back to the Inquisitor. “What happened?”

Vir paced the length of the room thoughtfully. Apparently, she did not like her conclusions. She swore louder in several languages. “Of all the fucking people to survive your mess…” She growled at him then looked at the ceiling. “THAT asshole?” She turned back to Solas. “He’s tied to the Templar that killed him. The guilt of what he did binds him to Cole and Cole to him. The Templar has to forget too.” She looked at him appraisingly. “Could you find him?”

“Find one human among the survivors in the war and chaos of ' _my mess_ '?” He snapped. “No.”

Cole coughed and shuddered. The anger drained from Vir’s face. She dropped to her knees beside him.

“Cole,” she said gently. It was a tone of voice Solas had never heard her use. “Where did you go? After you left the Inquisition, where did you go next?”

“I tried to find Templars, but you had them all. So I wandered for a while. Wandering, walking, wondering why. I found Haven again. You were a statue and there was a chantry mother. Her prayers were beautiful. I stayed to help. I comforted the ones who came to mourn their dead.”

“Haven,” she repeated. “Would you come to me if I called you from there?”

“No,” Cole said softly. “You are sharp on the inside, you hurt, but I could not help you.” He looked at Solas, but said nothing more.

“Rest now, Cole. Just… try to hold on.”

She stood and rushed about the room gathering her traveling gear and pulling on her armor.

Solas stood and watched the flurry of activity. It was less than a minute before she was ready. “Where are you going?”

“Haven.” She called over her shoulder already bounding down the stairs.

He followed closely behind her. “Do you truly believe you can change a future that has already occurred?”

She stopped, turned, and bared her teeth at him again. It was an expression she seemed to have reserved just for him. “Watch me.”

Vir arrived at Haven near sunset. The courtyard was empty. The pilgrims who stopped to pay their respects usually pushed onward to Skyhold before it grew dark.

The Chantry had been rebuilt with a memorial to the fallen. Inside the gates was a statue of Andraste and a smaller statue of the Herald. The Herald knelt with her left hand outstretched toward her savior. Solas noted that the statue had already been subject to a few accidents. Clumsy groundskeepers and visitors had already managed to knock off the tops of both its ears.

They walked past the statue, neither of them speaking, but Vir’s look of disgust mirrored his own. She pushed open the doors to the Chantry itself. Only a single person singing the Chant could be heard within.

“Cole,” Vir said loudly. “Cole, it’s the Inquisitor. I need your help.”

She walked toward the altar. Vir’s words had caused the lone Chantry Mother to rise and make her way to them.

“Greetings,” she bowed then noticed the mark on Vir’s hand. “It is an honor, Herald of Andraste. I was not expecting you. I fear there are no other visitors here today.“

She ignored the Mother and turned to Solas. "Do you sense anything spirit-y?”

“No, but I am not certain that I would, given that he is a spirit existing partially as a mortal in the past.”

“COLE,” she shouted once more, then listened as the name was swallowed by the silence.

“Herald,” The Mother said moving close enough to Vir to touch her arm. “Are you well? There is no one here except us and I do not believe that a spirit would seek a place protected by the Maker.”

Vir finally looked at the Mother. She grabbed the woman roughly by the throat and drew her dagger.

“Cole,” she said again, “come out or I’ll kill her.” She waited. “Read my thoughts, Cole. You know I would.”

“Yes,” Cole said appearing next to Solas. “You would.”

Vir held the blade in place while ignoring the Mother’s panicked whimpers. “I need your help.”

Cole twisted his fingers together and leaned toward her. His head tilted as he listened to something only he could hear. “You used to be too bright to see, but you’ve grown darker since then,” he said. “I am sorry. It would be better if I killed you.”

The muscles in Vir’s jaw worked silently for a moment before she threw the Mother to the ground. She walked toward Cole, stopping within an arm’s length, and placed the point of the dagger over her heart. “Someone else needs your help.” She said, but offered him the pommel. “Will you help them?”

Cole looked at the dagger, then back at her. “Yes,” he said.

Vir sheathed the weapon and walked out of the Chantry.

Cole reached out to the Mother who prayed quietly with her eyes squeezed shut. “Forget,” he whispered and disappeared. The Mother wiped her eyes and looked around in confusion, probably wondering how she had ended up on the floor.

Solas stared after the Inquisitor and the spirit. His only choice now was to follow.

After several inquiries, Vir traced their former Templar to a lyrium smuggler at Redcliffe. He looked nervous as he made his purchase and cast suspicious glances in every direction.

Despite his paranoia, Vir shadowed him easily and picked his pockets of coin, lyrium, and daggers. Then she kicked him behind the knee sending him sprawling to the ground. Cursing and scrambling backward, he reached for a weapon that was no longer there. Preparing to run, he seemed to realize she was holding all of his possessions.

“What do you want?” He demanded as Cole appeared next to them. Cole saw the face of the man who killed him and lunged. 

Vir had been prepared for his reaction and grabbed his wrist. “Cole, stop.”

“He killed me.” He struggled with her for a moment then subsided.

Vir jerked her head at Solas, “You’re up, say something compassionate.”

“I can’t hear him,” Cole said.

“What?” Vir and Solas said in unison. They traded annoyed looks.

“I see him in your mind. It hurts you when he talks. I know what he says through you, but I don’t hear him. I don’t see him.”

“Perhaps we could bring the other version of me,” Solas suggested helpfully.

“Not a fucking chance,” Vir muttered. “Cole, look at him.” She gestured at the man. His eyes had gone wide in recognition. “Tell me what you see.”

Cole stared at the former Templar. “He killed me. He remembers now. He…” The Templar’s eyes shifted to Vir, fear and guilt turned to rage. “He knows you. The Inquisitor who saved the Templars, the order that covered up his mistake. No punishment for abandoning their posts, no punishment for all they’ve done, why should he be punished now? There’s more hidden behind it, but he’s too angry for me to see. He hates you.”

“Great.” Vir snorted a laugh, but there was no mirth in it. “Cole, you have to forgive him. Despite what he feels about me, his pain is hurting you. It will kill you eventually.”

“Your pain will kill you eventually, but you don’t try to heal, you try to cut off the pieces that still care.”

Vir froze, taken aback by the change in subject. “Cole,” she said slowly, “this isn’t about me. Just… forgive him. Ok?” She squeezed her eyes shut, her sigh both desperate and frustrated. “Forgive him so you’ll be safe.”

“Why?” Cole asked curiously, “You said you would destroy me. Why would you care?” He tilted his head. “ _Harden your heart to a cutting edge_.” Cole pulled the words from her mind. “But that wasn’t what he meant.”

“It’s not that Cole. It’s…” Her eyes flicked almost imperceptibly to Solas then back. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. Just focus on him.”

Cole looked far away, wincing as if the listening hurt him. “ _I couldn’t save anyone, not one person. Nothing I did mattered. I failed them all. I failed him_.”

His words may as well have been the dagger she had offered him earlier. Her face twisted with grief and sob escaped her lips before she muffled it on a clenched fist. After several failed attempts to speak, a tiny broken voice emerged, “Please, Cole, don’t let me be the reason you die too.”

Cole watched her intently for a long time. Then he turned and touched the former Templar’s head. “Forget,” he whispered. The man scrambled to his feet and backed away.

Vir tossed him his money and possessions. “Don’t mention this to anyone,” she said, still sniffling. She dried her eyes on the edge of her sleeve and turned away from her companions.

“I could make you forget too,” Cole offered.

“No, Cole,” came the watery response. “I don’t think you could. There’s too much too forget.”

“Yes.” He agreed. “But, you are brighter now. You could be brighter still. I hope I helped.”

She choked out a surprised laugh and turned back to reply, but Cole had already disappeared. Instead she was looking directly at Solas with the most open expression he had seen on her. He never noticed the pain in her eyes before. She looked away quickly and walked back to where she had left her mount.

Solas no longer knew what to make of her.

Vir walked up the stairs to her quarters and peeked around the edge of her couch. Finding it empty, she sighed with relief.

“I’m glad I won’t have to explain having the corpse of a young man in my quarters,” she said. “That’s one rumor about me that even I don’t want.”

“Are you saying that all the things you’ve done were simply rumors?” Solas asked.

“I’m not saying anything,” she said tiredly returning to her desk.  

“Was that you in the other eluvians? Is that how you knew what was wrong with Cole? Is that why you are not surprised by my sudden appearance or what has happened to the Veil?”

Her brow furrowed at his barrage of questions, but she focused on the first. “What eluvians?”

He considered the implications of telling her and decided it was worth the information. “In my time, there is a field of eluvians. They all lead to different worlds similar to ours at different points in time. Small details have been changed in each and they all seem to center around you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said carefully.

“I think you are lying.”

She leaned against her desk and sighed. “Then there’s no point in asking me questions, is there?”

It was a valid point. Solas reconsidered his approach. Up until now he had treated her as the enemy she had been, but that was not quite accurate. She was a vision of the past. One that seemed to have autonomy, but still operated under the compulsion of the life she had already lived. Perhaps what he dealt with was not truly Vir at all, but a spirit that remembered her. He knew how to work with spirits.

He ducked his head, “You are right. I apologize for the accusation.”

She shrugged and looked at her feet, her thoughts seemed far away.

“Cole said that it hurts you when I speak.”

“I should have known you wouldn’t miss that,” she muttered.

“Is it true? I would not seek to cause you pain.”

She looked up and sneered. “It’s amazing that you can say that with a straight face.”

She was baiting him, he knew that now. “I do not seek it,” he said quietly. “I regret the pain my actions cause. My goal is to restore my people and to undo my mistakes if I am able.”

Of all the things he expected to see panic was not one of them, but it flashed across her face before she returned to her mask of indifference. “Well,” she said with a polite smile, “don’t you think you should get to it?”

He bit back his disappointment. The conversation was over for now. “Of course. Thank you for helping me save Cole.”

Her brows furrowed at the mention of the spirit’s name. He was about to let go of the memory when she spoke.

“Solas?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for letting me help him.”

He bowed in response to cover his surprise and returned to his time.


	8. Demands of the Qun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Iron Bull's personal mission and Trespasser

Ghilan'nain’s prison was a living gallery of twisted art. It surprised no one that she would have spent her years creating horrors beyond imagination. Andruil had infected her with the same madness she had found in the void. It was their anger at being denied that power that led them to conspire to kill Mythal.

Still, it was difficult for Solas not to admire that she could dream of things never before seen. That was until one of the beasts shambled close enough to the mirror to inspect. Its life was held together by raw magic, every step it took was agony on purpose. Muscles not covered by skin, tendons stretched tight and born too short, the sheer wrongness of its creation was a testimony to a hatred for life.

Solas watched the beast attempt to eat the grass that grew on the other side of the mirror, its continued existence meant many things. The most important, that Ghilan'nain’s power was still formidable despite the many years she spent dreaming and she had been the least of them.

The other mirrors were arrayed in a half circle, seven in total. The rest were dark and not a hint of what lurked on the other side could be seen.

“We are not ready.”

He recognized the voice, but doubted it would ever sound familiar. It emerged from a man wearing a suit of armor in an elven style so ancient most of the People would not recognize it. The voice itself held a hollow echoing quality, as if two people spoke or perhaps one hundred whispered.

Solas inclined his head, peering into helm’s mask to catch a glimpse of the golden eyes behind it. “The gates will hold as long as there is need.”

“Why not destroy them?”  

“There is no guaranty that I would succeed and they may still find a way to escape. At least with these here, we can see where they are and follow them if necessary,” he said reasonably. “In any case, they each have something of yours.”

The laughter was still hers even coming from a different mouth. “Still trying to save me? The time for that has long since passed, old friend.”

“I would see you restored if I may.”

“You may not.” The armor rattled as the man within shuddered. “Vengeance will be mine,” and the smile he aimed at Solas was only slightly unsettling, “but I would not want those pieces of myself. Who could guess what they have done to them. That is not a goal you can achieve, Dread Wolf.”

He bowed his head. Failure had always been difficult for him to accept and even his victories were proving few and hollow as of late.

“Oh, stop with that face.” The sigh was familiar as well.

“What will you do next?”

“The People are still waking, they need guidance in their daily lives. This world is not quite the old one.”

“No,” he agreed, “it is not.”

“You were never interested in ruling, but someone must. I will train a governor, they are not ready to accept this body despite the spirit it hosts.”

“Is Kieran still there?”

“Of course I am, there is no separation.”

“That is not true.” Mythal may have lived in the body of Flemeth for long enough to be a single entity, but her grandson was a different matter. Kieran was barely eighteen when spirit and body joined and he had not yet come into his power.

“So technical,” they huffed.

“Why did he accept you?”

“Survival, of course.” The armor shrugged. “Joining with me was one of the few ways he was guaranteed to survive the fall of the Veil. Aside from that, he had lived most of his life with the spirit of an ancient being. He missed it.”

Solas shuddered at the power the untrained boy had once possessed. “And what of Morrigan?”

“Mother is still angry,” the boy within chuckled. “She may have negotiated for my freedom, but that doesn’t mean I couldn’t choose my own path. I think she doesn’t like being bound to my service. Bound to the will of both her mother and her son.” Another laugh, but this time brighter. “Your Inquisitor was wise not to drink from the well.”

“She is not my Inquisitor,” Solas replied without thinking.

“No?” Mythal questioned and seemed confused for a moment then changed the subject. “And what are your plans?”

“The People are well in hand,” he bowed. “The reconstruction goes on without me. I must prepare for our battles ahead.”

“And what is this field of eluvians I have seen in parts of the Fade where no one treads?”

Solas covered his surprise. “I am uncertain. Alternate worlds. Time anomalies perhaps. Whatever they are, they are stable, but I have yet to fully investigate.”

“A mystery of the Fade and you have not plunged head first into solving it?” The friendly barb reminded him of a more carefree time.

“I have my priorities,” he said defensively, but a smile ghosted about his lips.

Mythal regarded him for a moment and seemed satisfied. “Take some time,” an armored gauntlet touched his shoulder. “We have that now, thanks to you.”

Solas hid a troubled look. He was pleased to have his friend’s support to do what he wanted. The only problem, he was not certain what that was.

 

There seemed to be no true order to the eluvians. Sometimes the Inquisitor was uncanny in her foresight. Other times she was caught as flatfooted as everyone else. It was difficult to tell if she remembered the events that occurred in previous instances.

The entry point for each portal was also somewhat random. Clearly, they centered around an emotional event, the more significant, the more frequently it occurred. Solas had seen this particular encounter ten times so far.

He watched the Inquisitor order Iron Bull to call the retreat. As the Venatori moved in and the Chargers pulled back, the Blades of Hessarian popped out of their hiding places along the beach. They intercepted the Venatori who were attempting to retake the shoreline. It was the first time Solas had witnessed this tactic and he watched with interest to see if it would work. The men and women fought valiantly, but they were outnumbered and fielded no counter for the Venatori mages. They were slaughtered to the last and soon the dreadnaught sank.

The group watched the events unfold, too far from the action to be of any help. Vir closed her eyes against the disappointment. It had been a valiant effort on short notice, but not enough. She placed a steadying hand on the Iron Bull’s shoulder.

“Let’s go home, Bull.”

The qunari nodded and they left the remnants of the Venatori camp for the Inquisition forces to clean up. The Ben Hassrath agent, Gatt, had already stalked off to make his report.

Solas returned to the Vir Dirthara pondering the scenes he had witnessed and the differences in each. He wandered the ever expanding rows of bookshelves pacing through its pathways meditatively. He reached out idly running his fingertips over the spines of what appeared to be leather tomes, but were truly constructs filled with memories old and new.

Most of the new memories were the same mundane repetitions of daily life. Fear still lingered in the hearts of the people and few pursued new knowledge. Instead they chose to ruminate on the past and what they had lost instead of inventing or rebuilding what they could with what they had.

He withdrew his hand and continued walking with only his own thoughts to accompany him. He could not blame his people for their fears, but their hearts were too close to the defeated and enslaved elves of the former Veil shrouded world for his comfort. They would need more time to heal, he would accept this.

He turned his attention back to his current mystery. Solas had not been privy to much of the Inquisition’s activities, not directly. Despite theoretically being a part of the Inquisitor’s inner circle, she did not involve him in decisions, ask him for advice, or request his assistance when she ventured into the world to close rifts. His information came from his spies and what he managed to overhear.

This undertaking had never come up.

He stopped walking when he encountered a barrier and realized he had taken himself to the Skyhold eluvian. Looking back at the shelves of books filling with uncertainty and doubt, he stepped through the portal. He, at least, still searched for answers.

The timing of the Venatori smugglers on the Storm Coast was never the same. Solas did not know exactly when in his own timeline it would have occurred, but he did remember something with the Iron Bull and the Inquisitor that stood out. Solas focused on the past and searched for an argument.

“So, Boss,” Bull intercepted Vir at the hall entrance, “about that bit of intel from the Ben-Hassrath. Think about what it could mean for the Inquisition.”

“I said no, Bull, and that’s final.” She kept walking.

“The Ben-Hassrath aren’t going to like it.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“You would turn down the possibility of a real alliance with the Qun? You know you’re going to need all the help against Corypheus that you can get.” His normally jovial tone had tensed and his volume increased. She stopped walking and faced him.

“First of all, the Qun isn’t going to give me anything more than they already have. Second, their idea of ‘help’ against Corypheus is probably an invasion. And third, I need Tevinter to remain at least neutral to the Inquisition so they don’t offer support to the Venatori. An alliance with the Qun may as well be telling them that Corypheus is right.”

“So you’re picking the Vints?” Bull’s expression did not change, but his anger was unmistakable. “You do know that all of your people are slaves there. Do you honestly think elves are better off there than they would be with the Qun?”

“Do not ask me to compare one kind of slave to another,” she snapped. “So you were born to it. Fine. Swim in it. But I’m not just an elf, Bull. I. Am. Dalish.  _Never_ again shall we submit. Not to the Chantry, not to Tevinter, and not to the Qun.” The last was practically shouted and everyone in the hall had stopped speaking. “I do not take orders from them or you.”

Vir turned and resumed walking to her quarters. Iron Bull did not follow.

“You know, the Ben-Hassrath will stop sending intelligence reports if you don’t at least meet with them,” Bull called after her.

“I’ll just have to think for myself then,” she replied without looking back. “Maybe you should try it.”

Iron Bull and the Inquisitor had been close friends in the other worlds. Their mutual respect and affection had shown itself time and again. Even in this world, Iron Bull had been the closest thing to a friend the Inquisitor had allowed. Solas had never seen the man flinch before and he wondered, not for the first time, why the Inquisitor in his world was so different.

 

Solas waited for Vir on the stairs leading up to her quarters. Whether she had noticed him during her confrontation with Iron Bull was uncertain, but she certainly could see him now. She walked around him and held the door open. It was an unnecessary courtesy, but he found he appreciated it. It also meant that she was not planning to ignore him. She turned and faced him once they were well inside.

He deliberated over the proper way to ask her about what he had seen. It was likely she did not truly want to speak with him, she never had before. Her natural state resisted being questioned. Her animosity toward him would be the default. He had to be wary that anything he said would lead to hostility and her demand that he leave.

“Is Cole alright?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts.

That she asked him a question, that she asked him  _that_ question, surprised him so much that his mind went blank. “I… cannot be certain.” At her look of disappointment he amended quickly, “There is a spirit of Compassion, different from the others. It enjoys alliteration and tries to help people in creative ways with varying degrees of success. It does not call itself Cole, but I believe it was him.”

Her expression eased but only a little. She began pacing. “Did I… did we save him? Did I change my future? Your past? Was all that going to happen some other way if I didn’t do it? How would you come back to ask me for help if he was already saved in your time? Would I have hit you if you hadn’t suggested it? I honestly hadn’t thought of it until then, but then if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have told me that I had, right?”

Her brows knit in concentration as she puzzled through questions that Fade scholars had once debated for years at a time. She tousled and worried her hair in a nervous habit he had not seen on her before. He smiled a little. This thoughtful expressive creature was almost likable.

She stopped pacing when she saw his expression. “What?”

“Those are good questions,” he said earnestly before she could think he was laughing at her. “There is much debate about the answers. The leading theory is that time cannot truly be altered without vast amounts of power and disruption to the Fade. What is possible are shifts in perception of the cause and the outcome. As we did not expend vast amounts of power in saving Cole, it is likely we only experienced the latter.”

“Perception. So Cole was alive when he sought your help so he’s still alive now. I was the reason Cole went to you, so I’m still the reason he showed up where you are. Our understanding of why those things happened and whether or not they’re good or bad have changed, but not the outcome?”

He tilted his head, she did not have the vocabulary for the discussion, but she grasped the theory well enough. “That is a fair interpretation, but it is only a theory, one of many, and do not forget that an expenditure of power does actually change things.”

“Power always changes things,” she said softly probably to herself, but he answered anyway.

“Indeed. As to the last part of your question, you had never hit me before, nor did you ever do so again, it might be fair to say that you would not have hit me had I not suggested it.” He paused in amusement at the thought then continued. “The choice to hit me was still yours, however, with or without prompting from me.”

She rubbed her knuckles and looked at her toes. “I see.”

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He meant it as a jest, but she did not laugh.

“Not really,” she confessed, glancing at him briefly. “It wasn’t nearly as fun as it sounded. I am sorry.”

He remembered his anger during the conversation and his relief that everything he had thought about her people was true.

 _Perception_.

“I…” he began then thought better of it. “I accept your apology and thank you for saving my friend.”

“I didn’t.”

“No, but you did try and that matters.”

Pain flashed across her face. “I guess I lacked the power to change that.”

“It is fortunate that so few people do, even if we sometimes wish it were otherwise.”

She nodded and seemed to have nothing more to say. They stood in silence while he contemplated the question of time influence and causality. They had been one of his favorite theoretical puzzles in his youth until he became consumed by the more practical applications of the Fade.

“Why are you here?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts again.

He brought himself back to his initial question. “I told you about the field of eluvians.” She nodded cautiously. “During my investigation I encountered an operation you conducted with the qunari. I believe that your argument outside with the Iron Bull stemmed from your avoidance of that mission.” Another cautious nod. He pondered a way to phrase the question when a thought occurred to him. “Have you considered using your Hessarians to reinforce the Chargers’ position. Perhaps with their help, you would not need to sound the retreat.”

It was her turn for her face to go blank. It was one of the few times he had seen her genuinely surprised. Then the corners of her mouth turned up in a sad smile. “Yes. I’ve tried that too. We save the dreadnaught and lose the Chargers. We always lose the Chargers.”

 

Vir walked to her couch and dropped onto it. She hugged her knees against her chest and stared far away lost in thought. It was a familiar expression, one Solas wore often. It was the look of a person reviewing their mistakes, searching for what could have been done differently.

“You do remember the other worlds,” he said quietly.

She looked up from her place and blinked as if she had forgotten he was there. “I think you knew that, no point in denying it.”

He clasped his hands behind his back. “Will you tell me about it?”

She considered the question then finally shrugged. She motioned to the other end of the couch. “I don’t know if you can use the furniture, but you are welcome to, if you wish.”

He took the offered seat. “Thank you.”

She nodded. “What have you seen so far?” she asked carefully.

“I have seen you use a number of tactics to counter the Venatori, ten in all,” he answered. “In each, you tell Iron Bull to call the retreat. You used the Hessarians to attempt to save the dreadnaught in the last encounter I witnessed.”

“Ten,” she repeated chuckling as if she thought the number was funny. “I’ve had the Chargers hold their ground, I’ve sent the Hessarians as backup, I’ve hired mercenaries, I’ve even tried getting to them myself. We came… close… once. We managed to save Grim and Dalish. When we got back to Skyhold, Grim pulled Bull aside and started… talking. With words. I don’t know what he said, but the week after that Bull turned himself in to the re-educators again. He didn’t make it out that time.” She shook her head. “I can’t save them.”

Solas accepted her conclusion, she had given it far more thought than he. “Why not call the retreat? Iron Bull would be forced to become Tal Vashoth, but I heard your speech. Would you not wish to free him from the Qun?”

“I wasn’t lying. I need them in the fight ahead,” she hesitated, “against you.”

 _So she knew everything_. “But… he will betray you. You must know they they will attempt to invade. He will side with them against you.”

“I know. And after I kill him, I’ll find evidence among his things that he and the Viddasala were not a rogue part of the Ben-Hassrath, but had the approval of the Arishok. The threat you posed to them was great enough that they thought it was worth the risk. I’ll happily blackmail the Arishok with the proof of his failure, he’ll give me what I need.” She shrugged. “If Bull becomes Tal Vashoth, I can’t get the Arishok to cooperate.

"If you don’t go,” Solas said mulling over her reasoning, “You lose no one and Bull remains with the Qun, allowing you to manipulate the Arishok to combat me.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “He’ll be upset, but he gets a few more years with the Chargers and they survive. It’s the best I could do for him.”

“Not exactly,” he said slowly. “Do you remember the main keep where the Viddasala’s forces were?” She nodded. “There is a locked desk in a hidden room where she keeps her communication with the Arishok. It is behind a false wall in their barracks. We only found it after her forces were defeated. Even without the Iron Bull’s death, you should find proof enough in there.”

She peered at him curiously tilting her head, “Why…”

“Would I help you against me?” He thought about his reasons and settled for the one most likely to be accepted. “The Qun will lose a dreadnaught and a talented spy. I believe it is a fair trade.”

She snorted. “And while perceptions of the events will change, the outcomes likely will not?”

He smiled.

“It’s worth a try.” Her brow furrowed. “What do you see when you visit these eluvians. Can you just take yourself to any time within them?”

“No, each seems to lead to a time that was important to you, so far mostly battles. I can follow it for as long as I may, but I exert no control over them.”

“Ahh,” she seemed relieved. “Well, I should find Bull, we need to get going if we’re going to intercept that ship.”

“Will he be suspicious of your sudden change of heart?”

She shook her head, “I’ll have some drinks with him then let him think he tricked me into agreeing. That should make him happy for a little while. This operation is never easy for him no matter the outcome.”

“I suppose not. I shall leave you to your task.” He stood preparing to leave.

“Solas?”

He looked down to find her staring at him keenly. “Yes?”

“In your time… I’m dead, aren’t I?”

He swallowed involuntarily. She already knew the truth, but she deserved to hear it from him. “Yes. I killed you.”

She hugged her knees again and looked away. “Thanks for the information.”

He bowed his head, not knowing what else to say. As he let go of the vision and watched her image fade, he caught sight of her expression.

She was smiling.


	9. The Path that Leads Astray

The Inquisitor had been aware of his plans all along. Solas wanted to believe it explained her animosity toward him. The only problem was, it did not. Hatred of him he could understand, but she was consistently hard on everyone. Further, at least some of her hostility masked a hidden motive, but to what end?

Had her spirit become erratic due to illness? Even his kind did not live in the physical world for so many consecutive years. He thought of the field where a thousand eluvians stretched beyond sight. If she had lived all of them and had died at the end of each… he shuddered at the thought. 

For a moment he was struck by the sadness of it. By all accounts, the previous Inquisitors had been rare among her kind. The Archivist had reported the final count of the eluvians and that the field was not growing. Whoever the Inquisitor had been before, the one he had known had been the last.

It occurred to him to wonder why it mattered. The true mystery was what had created the eluvians in the first place. He was not trying to change the past. He could not heal a damaged spirit that was already gone. The thought nagged at him until he dismissed it. If he could expend the power to change his past, it would not be for that. He wanted the truth, he decided. For good or ill, he wanted to understand his world. That had always been his purpose.

Solas watched a small army of elves train in the distance. At some point in the future, he would select a group that would be the core force to fight the Evanuris. For now, he left their training to a handpicked group of leaders and hoped that Mythal had chosen well.

Ghilan'him Banal'vhen. The words were called out by someone among the ranks of soldiers, but Solas could not determine the source.

Thousands of years and still the same prejudice. Several mages who were masters of the very physical technique had returned to their place at arms. They showed a commitment to future battles and protection of the new city. He welcomed them, but he was a rare exception.

The people had finally begun to adapt to their new surroundings. Many no longer looked to the sky or ground fearfully, wondering when the curtain would once again separate them from their lives. The first to adapt were now training together, but old rivalries and bias had begun to divide where once fear and necessity had brought them together.

“They don’t understand yet.” Abelas said as he crossed his arms to watch the soldiers train. “They don’t understand the strength of the physical world nor do they realize that we were always tied to it.”

“Is this everyone?” Solas asked. The number of elves returning was achingly small and the ones able to aid in defense and reconstruction smaller still.

“We lost many before you won the day for us,” Abelas said simply.

Solas remembered his most recent losses. Despite his new understanding of the Inquisitor and some of her motivations, it did not change the fact that she had killed so many of his people. Some of his advisers had believed she was running a scorched earth campaign. One where he would have no empire to rebuild even if he succeeded. It was fortunate she could not have known about those who slept behind locked pathways or she might have succeeded.

He could understand the tactic, as ruthless as it was, what he did not understand was the cruelty. She always made certain that he knew what had happened, who was behind it, and the way they died. Did she honestly believe the threat of annihilation would make him more likely to wish to spare her people? The more he thought about it the less any of what he had seen of his world made sense.

“We are not what we were, Lethallin. Perhaps we never will be.” Abelas said, with an air of acceptance that was surprisingly lacking in grief. While the man had not chosen a new name, the removal of the Veil had changed his spirit.

“Does it not bother you?” Solas asked allowing his irritation to show.

“You saw what happened when the world was too thick with our kind. When our spheres could not help but intersect. War among the proud was inevitable. Our numbers will swell, but slowly, perhaps more of us will learn wisdom in that time.” He smiled. “As long as the shemlen’s numbers remain small, we will do well.”

“Any word from the borders?”

“They still war among themselves, but some have begun to venture out of their cities to see what lies beyond. Their response is faster than we predicted but such is the nature of those whose lives are so fleeting.”

“True.” Solas had nothing more to add and returned to watching their fledgling forces spar in pairs. The mages who used the Dirth'ena Enasalin were at a significant advantage in close combat.

Abelas smiled appreciatively. “Remarkable skill. There is virtually no counter for their offense and the ability to bolster their allies make them peerless in the field.”

Solas coughed politely, “Perhaps we have not considered a counter outside of overpowering an opponent, but for those who have lived without magic, counters have long been developed. Some to an art form itself.”

“Truly?” Abelas asked. “Have you seen this in your time with the Inquisition?” Abelas had maintained an odd sort of respect for the Inquisitor. She had followed the rites of Mythal and had negotiated a truce with the sentinels. It had been the only advantage to her Dalish devotion to the elven gods.

“In a manner of speaking.” Solas did not reveal he had seen the technique in one of the eluvians.

“If you could make note of their important countermeasures we would do well to have them recorded for further study.”

It was a good suggestion and would add valuable knowledge to the Vir Dirthara. Solas nodded and left to begin his new task. He told himself that his enthusiasm had nothing to do with a wish to return to the field of eluvians, but perhaps he could search for two answers at once.

Enchanter Vivienne did not quite practice the same techniques as the arcane warriors of old, but it was close enough that counters to her methods would work against theirs. Today Solas watched one of the people who had developed tactics to defeat her. Unsurprisingly, it was Vir.

“Cullen darling, we need you here.” Vivienne motioned for the Commander to join them. He groaned when he saw who was waiting with her.

“Why do I always have to be the one to look like a fool?” He looked down at Vir who wielded a pair of practice blades and a mischievous grin.

“You are aiding in my pursuit of knowledge. That is hardly the work of a fool, my dear.” Vivienne smiled patiently, but her eyes gleamed.

Cullen sighed, but there was humor in it. Already warmed up from working with his soldiers, he grabbed a practice blade and a shield from the racks and squared off against the Inquisitor.

“You know,” Vir said, “there’s not much to what I do, enchanter. It’s one of the reasons so few people are allowed to watch me train. Shedding light on the shadow reveals there was never anything there.”

Vivienne’s smile remained, “You don’t give yourself enough credit, but that is also why it’s just us, darling. I would not compromise your effectiveness, but Cullen should know these counters for planning defense. I know what a favor it is for you to show us. I do not forget such favors.”

Vir grinned and said nothing more, she took a balanced stance and faced Cullen. He began with an ordinary opening attack and Vir disappeared.

At least that was what it must have looked like to Cullen.

From his vantage point, Solas could see exactly what she had done. She rushed at the last second into his shield and under it. The entire motion took a fraction of a second, aided by the larger man’s own forward movement. She ended up behind him and tapped between his shoulder-blades with her dagger. Without armor, the move was certainly fatal, with armor it would stagger him.

Cullen spun to where he assumed Vir had gone but she moved with him coming up under his sword arm. A harder tap to a precise point on his elbow sent his sword flying.

She waited this time as he retrieved his weapon. He spared a glance at Vivienne. While she maintained her perpetual look of amusement, her eyes were sharp, taking in everything. Solas guessed she was devising spells that would trap someone who lurked in the blind spots. He was doing the same.

Vir’s counters involved a combination of speed, impeccable timing, and sleight of hand. The sleight of hand included a variety of powders that confused the eyes or suppressed magical energy. It was impressive to watch, but nothing extraordinary. It also explained how she was able to give her advantage to so many of her agents. Some of his best fighters had been taken by surprise and mages of great strength were bested by ordinary people.

After Vivienne was satisfied, Vir worked with Cullen until he could predict the way she would move. She never once actually attempted to make him look like a fool despite having a number of opportunities to do so.

Vir sent them away when they were finished, insisting that she could clean up the practice grounds herself. The enchanter reminded her that she had servants now, but Vir only laughed and called herself old fashioned.

Solas watched her rack practice weapons and sweep the training circle. To his eyes at least, she showed no signs of spiritual corruption. She looked up at a sound that came from somewhere behind him. Her eyes lit and she smiled in welcome, it transformed her face. If not for the mark on her hand Solas would not have recognized her.

“Solas,” she called cheerfully, “here to practice?”

Solas watched himself make his way to the practice area. His eyes narrowed suspiciously wondering why he would dress that way. It was not the kind of clothing he had chosen for physical training while he was with the Inquisition. It was closer to the dark and fitted clothing he preferred now and… sleeveless?

“I usually try to choose a time when this place is empty.” His other self said while selecting a staff. “But with the Inquisition’s forces increasing, that is becoming rare.”

Vir nodded and moved out of the way. “So tell me,” she said as she leaned against the railing of the training area’s enclosure, “Vivienne actually attacks with the sword she summons, but you stand far away and cast. Why all the stave work?”

“The mind and the body are not disconnected,” he explained, demonstrating visibly how the motion of the staff and the energy of a spell were linked. It was only a bit of light, but she seemed delighted by the example. Solas watched himself add an entirely unnecessary flourish to it and rolled his eyes. “Consider your mark,” he continued, “you need not push it toward a rift to close it, but doing so aids your intent.”

She made a face, “Actually once the rift and the mark are connected, the rift exerts a very physical force on me. I have to push toward it. It feels like it’s trying to rip off my hand just like when Corypheus tried to remove it.”

Neither Solas had known that, the other version of himself looked stricken.

“But the casting motion does add to my ability to control it,” she said quickly, “I mean, I do take your point.” When the other Solas only stared at her she changed the subject. “Did you want a sparring partner or should I just continue to enjoy the view?”

 _Did she just flirt with me?_ Solas thought with no little alarm.  _No, she is merely trying to make me stop looking like a kicked puppy._

The other Solas recovered finally and smiled, “The forms I use are not technically meant to be countered physically. However, I would appreciate the practice.”

She pushed away from the fence and walked to the equipment rack to select a weapon.

“I was not aware that you knew how to use a stave.”

“You can’t fight it if you don’t know at least a little about it.” She grabbed a wooden staff and spun it experimentally. To his practiced eye, she knew more than a little.

They squared off and began with the most basic of attacks and counters, graduating slowly to more complicated sequences with increasing speed. Her technique was oddly familiar. He had learned to fight thousands of years before she had been born. Taught by a spirit of Valor. Somehow, her technique was the same with only small modern adaptations added in.

 _I must have taught her at some point._  The implications of having spent so much time with her made him uneasy. Had his other self realized what he was seeing? The other Solas showed no signs of surprise or suspicion only admiration. He spared a moment to be annoyed with himself.

Vir was no master of the form and she had already spent several hours working with Cullen and Vivienne. She was the first to show signs of fatigue and left her low guard open. With a spin of his staff, the other Solas hooked her right foot and pushed forward. The rush set her off balance. Reflexes and training forced her limbs to attempt to compensate, but all she managed to do was fall and take him with her. They landed in an ungraceful heap with him on top.

“Are you injured?” the other Solas asked bracing his arms on either side of her.

“No,” she said with a tired laugh, then when he did not move, “and I yield?”

“What?” Solas heard himself say. Only then did he realize he was pinning her to the ground. He stood hastily and offered his hand. “Apologies.”

She allowed him to pull her to her feet. “None needed.”

 _Let go of her, fool._ Solas thought at himself. Vir smiled in a kindly way and looked down at where his alternate still held her hand. He released her, apologizing again. She only smiled at him again and picked up their discarded weapons.

 _Am I blushing?_  Solas watched himself help to tidy the rest of the training area.

“Thanks for the help,” Vir called as she finished her task. “Don’t forget we leave for the Western Approach tomorrow.”

“I will be ready,” his other self said. She waved over her shoulder as she left. He continued to stare in her direction long after she was gone.

Solas shook his head and began to wonder if the Inquisitor was not the only one with a different personality in these eluvians.

Vir placed campaign markers on a map laid out on her desk. At some point she had learned how the qunari planned invasions into new territory. She was trying out the strategy to position troops in the Frostback Basin. Not an invasion, but certainly a place where the Inquisition would have no support from the locals.

Solas continued to study the Inquisitor and record her knowledge for his people. Vir had not spent her many lives idly. Knowing what she did about her future and the possibility that she would live the same life again, she made a point to learn new things each time. Even her hobbies were different from one eluvian to the next, though there were some she returned to for the sheer enjoyment of them.

His other selves had been a great source of information for her. While they all had guarded their goals and motivations, their will had not been proof against someone kind and respectful. Her search for wisdom struck a cord with his alternates and they delighted in sharing what they could. Had she been anyone else, he would have admired her spirit. Instead, he only felt a growing resentment for the person she had become.

The door to her quarters opened and closed followed by the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Vir glanced up and smiled as the alternate version of him appeared.

“Welcome back,” she said circling around her desk to greet him. “How was Val Royeaux?”

“As expected, save a few welcome surprises,” the other Solas replied warmly. “Were you the one who ordered the cakes sent to my room every evening?”

“I wanted to make sure you ate something,” she said defensively.

Solas watched himself chuckle softly as he crossed the room. He watched with bemusement as he reached for her hand in greeting. He watched with growing horror as his other self swept her into his arms for a kiss.

The kiss carried her backward until she ran up against the desk.  He tried to lift her onto it, but she gently resisted.

“I’m trying to plan troop movements,” she admonished looking over her shoulder at the displaced markers. “You just sent our forces through a bog.”

“I apologize,” his other self said, not looking apologetic at all. He backed her against the desk again, this time without disturbing the markers.

Solas observed them with a kind of shocked detachment. The Inquisitor was at least as enthusiastic as the other Solas and they both seemed to be truly happy. Still, he could not imagine being distracted from his objective for a physical relationship, even with these kinder versions of the Inquisitor.

Had she seduced him? Was that possible? She was, he admitted reluctantly, attractive in her own way. At least she would be, if not for her ever present scowl when she looked at him.  

His other self spun her around so that she faced the desk again.

 _That is certainly not a scowl_ , Solas thought. Hands that looked like his slid around her waist and began to undo the buttons of her shirt. She hummed approvingly and reached behind her. A strangled moan in his own voice emerged from lips pressed into the back of her neck. Impatient hands ripped her shirt open the rest of the way.

It occurred to him then that he should leave. Solas hurried across the room trying to ignore the the sound of the Inquisitor breathlessly calling his name. His own laughter chased him down the stairs as did the sound of two bodies landing on the bed.

He wondered what kind of game Vir had been playing with him and was ready to angrily confront her when the other Solas spoke.

“I missed you, _vhenan_.”


	10. Vhenan

Solas did not confront Vir. He was not certain that he could. Despite the casual way he had stepped into his past, doing so required focus and power. Power he had in plenty, especially enhanced by his emotions as they were. Focus, on the other hand, was erratic now whenever he thought about the Inquisitor of his time.

He stood before the many volumes added recently to the Vir Dirthara. Qunari tactics, a dozen Avvar dialects, Ferelden encryption, dwarven mechanics, all bits and pieces he had gathered from the Inquisitor. All knowledge she had learned from the people of Thedas. All gone except for what he could salvage.

He touched a new tome that had been added by someone else. Another poem lamenting the lost. It seemed that would be the new trend in their literature for the foreseeable future. He should not have been surprised.

Mythal joined him in perusing the additions. A gauntleted hand scratched the spine of a new collection, absorbing the memories bound in red leather. “This one’s funny, it’s about nugs. Oh… and then it died. I think it was a metaphor.”

“They are all like that,” Solas said addressing the truth rather than the mockery.

“They need time and guidance.” It was the boy speaking now, Solas was beginning to be able to tell the difference.

Time and guidance, but how long? And how long before guidance became law and the strongest turned the people’s need for nurturing into dogma? It occurred to him that perhaps time and guidance was all the old world had needed as well. He elected not to voice his concerns. Instead he asked, “What did you think of the Inquisitor when you met her?”

“Me?” the boy asked.

“Either of you.”

“Her blood was old, her spirit strong,” Kieran answered, “and suspiciously wise, wouldn’t you say?” The last part was from Mythal as was the laugh.

“What of her people? You spent time among them, what did you think of them?”

“You ask that  _now_?” Mythal’s brows arched and they spoke as one. “What’s done is done, Dread Wolf. It is time to focus on the present. We need more power before our enemies wake.”

He welcomed the change in subject. “I have discovered several sources, but I will not reopen the Deep Roads.”

Mythal actually shuddered. “Wise. Have you considered your eluvian field?”

“How do you mean?” Solas asked carefully.

“The power contained in those portals is vast.” Mythal’s head tilted. “I’m surprised you hadn’t noticed, considering they’re all tied to you.”

“For now they are a source of information,” he said firmly. “I will not destroy them out of hand while I can still make use of them.”

“Then take what you can and quickly.” It was as close to an order as Mythal could give him. One that would not be argued against. “Our enemies will not stay quiet forever.”

Mythal left him standing before shelves of sorrow and disappointment, most of it not even his.

 

Solas followed Vir up a rocky path. The terrain of this place was different, it was warmer, and the sun sank at a different angle. Solas guessed they were in Tevinter even before he saw the silhouette of Dorian at the top of a cliff pointing out in the distance. Dorian’s hair had grown out considerably and Vir sported a long dagger in place of her missing hand. Dorian finished giving his orders to a pair of runners and greeted his old friend with a careful hug.

Solas looked over the edge of the cliff at what should have been the city of Minrathous and found himself looking at a battlefield.

Dorian filled Vir in on his plans and where he wanted her support. He looked to her to confirm that it would work and her approval was all he needed to reinforce his confidence. He led her back down to the waiting troops.

“Do you think our friend will even know about this?” Dorian asked.

She shook her head. “Nah. From where Solas is, it probably just looks like another civil war.”

Solas’s brow furrowed at the mention of his name.

“Then why are we doing this?”

“Because it’s not,” she said firmly. “With this last push, we take away the power of the Magisterium’s worst offenders. We free the slave population of Tevinter. We bring together an army of elves, humans, dwarves, and vashoth fighting side by side. With that you can rebuild your home to the place you thought it was. The place it should have been.” She spoke with the air of someone who knew.

“But then he’ll just destroy it all.” Dorian’s practical exasperation had always been simultaneously irritating and refreshing to Solas.

“He said to live well while there was time,” Vir said whimsically. Solas knew her well enough by now to know there was more pain in it than she let on, but she smiled for her friend and he did not notice.

“This is not living well,” Dorian waved his arms emphatically at the battlefield. “I could be in a comfortable vineyard, safely behind shields, and surrounded by buxom young people. I could spend my evenings with nothing better to do than get drunk and choose my dinner wardrobe.”

Vir gripped her friend’s shoulder with her good hand. “You’d rather do that than prove you are without a doubt the pinnacle of what Tevinter has to offer? You’d rather do that than fight alongside your friends and crush everything and everyone that’s wrong with the country you love so much? You’d rather do that than be right? I do believe you are fond of being right.”

Dorian sighed as they reached their horses. “At least tell me I look amazing.”

Vir grinned as she mounted, “You look amazing.”

The battle-horn sounded.

“You pair are going to be left behind.” Dorian’s longtime friend, Maevaris, called as she rode to the front.

“Fashionably late!” they shouted together and charged.

 

The battle was fierce and the losses were great on both sides. Dorian was almost killed, but a last moment appearance by the Chargers miraculously saved him. He glared suspiciously at Vir and the Iron Bull. Bull was supposed to have stayed out of the fighting due to a previous injury and how exactly did he know where to be? Vir maintained that Dorian was too shiny not to notice, even in the middle of a battlefield. It was not an explanation Dorian believed, but one he was willing to accept.

They sat around a campfire with the wounded, sharing a bottle of something almost toxically alcoholic. The Iron Bull had fallen asleep, his hand resting on Dorian’s knee. Protectively, he claimed, but they all knew it was for comfort. It had been a close call.

Vir looked at the sky. Solas followed her gaze as it measured the position of the stars. If this world was anything like his own, his counterpart would be close to completing his orb. They had run out of time.

“What would you do differently, if you had another chance to try again?” she asked.

“Besides kicking Solas in the shins the first time we met?” Dorian replied. “I don’t know.”

“Just kicking?”

“It might surprise you, but I understand,” he sighed. “Before I went south I never thought of slavery as suffering, I hardly thought of slaves at all. I would have gladly fixed what I saw wrong with Tevinter and kept them exactly as they were. Minus the blood sacrifice, of course. After, when I realized it was wrong, I still would have chosen my people and fixed what I believed was important. I would not have sacrificed Tevinter to free slaves.”

Vir looked at the chaos around her. “Why did you?”

“You’ll probably lose your entire good opinion of me, if you have one, but it was because Tevinter cannot be fixed if it’s built on the back of such a broken ideology. Sometimes you have to admit that you can’t bring back what you’ve lost. You have to make something new. I wanted the new to be good, not better, but actually good.”

Vir smiled sadly. “You are the best of all of us, Dorian.”

“Of course I am, my friend. Now that the speeches are done, what are you going to do next?”

“I have some friends to visit, check on my clan, but I can stay here if you need me.”

“No offense, but talented as you are you’re no good at building shields against an oncoming magical apocalypse.”

She snorted. “As always you are correct. I have this,” she held up the communication crystal he had given her. “You know how to call if you need me.” She stood and turned away.

“Vir,” Dorian said, the light of the fire somehow made his expression sadder.

“Yes?”

“I’m never going to see you again, am I?”

The pain that flashed across her face did not show when she turned and walked back to him. She cupped his cheek and stooped to kiss his forehead. “Of course you will,” she lied, but only partly. “I’d never abandon that face.”

Solas watched Vir say goodbye to her friends again and again. Each time, the people struggled to improve, struggled to survive, and succeeded and failed in equal measure. He saw how the other versions of himself had come to admire the people of Thedas and that it was Vir who had shown him the truth.  

 _Vhenan_.

That single word had changed his perspective. It was more than a simple term of endearment. With new eyes he saw what he had missed before. She was real and he had loved her in a thousand lives.

It changed everything.

 

Solas returned to Skyhold. It had been a long time since he needed meditation to focus. He slowed his breath to find his center, allowing consciousness of his body to anchor his mind. He pictured the Inquisitor and searched.

He found Vir sitting on her couch reading a book about alchemy. He sat at the far end without invitation and tried to find the words that would win him the answers he needed. She put her book aside and waited.

“You were real.”

His words were met with silence, she pressed her lips together.

“I called you vhenan. I loved you.”

She looked at her hands and shook her head. Whether in denial or sorrow he could not tell.

“Even when I never said the words, I did.”

Her hands fidgeted in her lap unhappily. “Not  _you_ ,” she said, unwilling or unable to look at him. “Not this time.”

“Not this time,” he agreed bitterly. “And what of you?” his voice broke on the words. “Which version of you is the truth?”

“This one,” she said hollowly, “I got tired of pretending.”

That she would lie to him now. About this. He struggled to control his anger, it would serve nothing. “I see,” he said. “Perhaps you could explain who you referred to when you said,  _Var lath vir suledin_. Those were your last words.”  

Tears fell onto knotted fists and a small whimpering sound escaped her lips before she clamped her hand over them. She sniffed once and cleared her throat. “It’s good to know I died sentimental.” Bitter words as if her future self had betrayed her.

The anger flowed out of him. He had no right to it. He had killed her. A thousand times and more. He sagged back into the couch and stared at his own hands, he could almost see the blood on them, her blood. “You must hate me for what I’ve done.”

“It would have been easier if I hated you. I tried to. Every time, I tried to. It’s probably why I always failed.”

Her words were no consolation, there could be no consolation for this. “You should have killed me when you had the chance,” he said. His anger directed entirely at himself now. “I would have.”

She laughed humorlessly, “I’ll remember that if I have to do this again.”

“You won’t,” his words were barely a whisper, but with them came a realization of everything he had destroyed.

She finally looked up. Her nose was red, her lids swollen, tear soaked lashes clumped together framing bloodshot eyes, but none of that could mask her pride. She met his gaze. “I know.” The same smile he had seen before reappeared, sadder this time but still true.

His chest tightened and he worked to take a shaky breath. “Why…  _how_ … did you keep coming back?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” she asked. He shook his head. “You sent me.”

 

Unless his counterparts had planned in advance to send her back in time, Solas did not see how it was possible that they had done so. He did not know how to do it, they should not have either. Still, the eluvians were tied to him and centered around her. It was possible that their feelings for her had compelled them to search for a way to save her, but it was strange that she would know it with such certainty.

“It was you,” Vir said addressing the doubtful look on his face. “I heard your voice. In the dark, wherever it is that we go when we die, it’s the one thing I always hear.  _I’m sorry, vhenan, you must walk this path a little longer_. Then I wake up in Haven as if none of it ever happened. Ever since, it’s been the same. I try, I fail, you send me back. No matter where I was or what I did, you always sent me back.”

“So… you just… gave up?” He sputtered in shock, his words pouring out as soon as he could form them. “You made me hate you so I wouldn’t save you?”

Despite knowing that her intent was to change his feelings and despite being the truth, the stricken look on her face before she turned away tore at his heart and he regretted his words. She scrubbed at her eyes.

“I’m sorry.”

“Why?” she asked with laugh. “It’s not  _your_  fault. It’s all going according to plan.” She looked back at him fiercely, a small light of anger breaking through her grief. “But don’t you dare say that I gave up. I fought to stop you for ten  _thousand_  years. I tried everything I could. You saw what I did. Tell me what I could have done differently.” Her anger ran out, she ran her fingers through her hair. “But you wouldn’t listen and I couldn’t stop you. I couldn’t save my people and every time I failed, every time I went back, we suffered.”

“But-”

“Does it matter that I’m the only one who remembered?” she interrupted. “It happened. It was real. We died a thousand times because I failed.” She hid her face in her hands and sobbed. 

There was no comfort he could offer and no words that would not sound hollow coming from him. 

Her tears subsided enough for her to continue. “I couldn’t save them and I couldn’t let it go on forever either.” She straightened her back and raised her chin. "So I changed tactics. I saved you.”

He was spending an inordinate amount of time feeling bewildered lately. “Saved… me?”

“I gave you a monster to fight so you wouldn’t become one.”

 

Vir bared her teeth at him. It was the not-smile that had made Solas rage and shudder at its sight. It was a parody of an expression that should have been lovely, twisted into one that inspired fear and hatred. She nodded when she saw that he understood. The smile vanished.

“I was with you the first time you tore down the Veil. I tried to stop you, to convince you, but I didn’t know how. I watched you change. I don’t understand what happened, but it,” she paused searching for the words, “corrupted your spirit.” She rubbed her arms and shuddered.

“You sheltered me with your body as the Fade rushed back into the world. Your tears burned like acid and your claws pierced my skin. It must have been like holding onto sand in a windstorm. It was just as futile. I should have died that day.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I didn’t.”

The Fade made thought into reality and everything was tied together through it. Even believing as he did, that her people were not truly part of the world, he felt the loss of life when he tore down the Veil. Had he been more connected to the people of Thedas, to Vir, the impact would have been too violent for him to withstand.

“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”

Her laughter was sharp and bitter. “Ignoring the breathtaking hypocrisy of that statement, I did. Not at first, of course. I had no idea what was happening the first few times. But after that, I did. I know you’re not doing this out of hatred or thirst for power. I know you didn’t want to hurt us. You wanted to save your people and restore the world as you thought it should be. Your reasons didn’t change for love or even the truth. The truth just hurt you more and you were willing to make that sacrifice. So I try, I fail, you send me back.”

She lapsed into silence staring into space and he thought she had finished speaking, but she continued.

“Wisdom thought you might have been doing it out of madness or remorse. Or maybe you failed too and you needed me to fix it. I can’t imagine what kind of world you built for your people in the state you ended up in.”

“Wisdom?” His friend had known her and well from what he had seen of them.

“Yes. I thought if I could save her, maybe she could help me convince you or at least help me understand what was happening.”

“But you couldn’t.”

“No. The harder I tried the worse it was. Once I took a group down to the plains without explanation. We tried to clear out the bandits before they could attack the mages. The mages thought  _we_ were bandits. They summoned your friend to attack us. She killed Blackwall. Then you had to kill her yourself. That was a pretty bad day.”

She sighed. “Every time I tried to change things I only ended up making them worse. I started going alone. I could free her, but never save her. That was when she spoke to me. She remembered everything just like I did. She said your heart was too gentle for the death you would cause. She said that it was I who helped you see us for what we were. That if you hated me, you wouldn’t see the truth.”

He shook his head. “She would never suggest keeping the truth from me. It was against her nature.”

“Yes, but she couldn’t deny that it could save you and end our suffering.” She paused as if weighing whether or not to continue.  "I am sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you.“

"I,” he stopped, wishing she had not said that, he tried again, “I do not know what to think of any of this, but thank you for telling me the truth.”

He stood having nothing more to say.

“Solas,” she said. The damage of her tears were still there, but her eyes were dry, her face determined. “I haven’t given up, you know. I still think I’m going to stop you.”

The spirit was there in every version of her, he had simply refused to see it before. “I believe you,” he said and returned to his time.

 


	11. And Hell for Few Dare

Solas was not the leader of this hunt, though he remained a key participant. Abelas’s sentinels had become the officers of their fledgling army and led their squads with skill and confidence. Most of them knew nothing but fighting and were eager to have a target worth testing themselves against. Solas was pleased to see those who were not as strong in magic implementing the tactics he had added to their collective knowledge. With them, their weaknesses vanished.

Solas did not allow himself to dwell on the source of those techniques, especially when their current quarry would use his own thoughts against him.

He had not faced the Nightmare when Vir and her party entered the Fade at Adamant. He had been battling the seemingly endless stream of demons when the group reappeared. The rift they used to exit the Fade had offered him a glimpse of the demon that ruled the region. The Nightmare had been hording power. Its strength had not diminished with the removal of the Veil.

He did not think of the Inquisitor appearing in a massive flash of light.  
He did not think of how her eyes had scanned the crowd until she found him.  
He did not think of how her brows had lifted and her lips pressed together curving into a smile before her features hardened and she made her speech.

He had always believed he imagined it, of course he would not think of it.

They pressed onward until they reached the remnants of an ancient elven keep. Solas remembered what it had been before it fell to ruin. Andruil had once hosted parties there to celebrate a successful hunt. The place had grown into disrepair when she began exploring the Void alone. Unsurprising that the Nightmare would claim it for himself.

The courtyard was empty save for an armored woman sitting casually on a throne-like chair.

“Welcome to my party,” the Nightmare taunted from behind Hawke’s lips and the courtyard filled with demons.

The Nightmare preyed on fear, the allies it summoned did the same. They were hulking creatures on their own, sharp claws and armored hides. They could kill as well as any beast, but their advantage was invoking terror in their opponent. They saw into the minds of men and became a vision that would paralyze a seasoned veteran and cause panic in the most rational mind. Solas had crafted a spell that would allow them to see through the Nightmare’s illusions. His job was to hold it. His men fought with bravery that surprised the ancient demon. It angrily searched for the source of their fortitude. It focused on Solas and charged.

His battle-guard was ready and they closed ranks around him. Their shields deflected acid and spells, their weapons kept the Nightmare at range. Solas could have killed the demon himself. Killing it would have been easy, but that was not why they were there.

He waited until the last of its allies was dead and loosed a torrent of spells that bound it in place. He summoned his orb and approached the demon that wore Hawke’s skin.

“Ahh, it’s you,” it said, “The one I have to thank for my power. You raised the Veil and gave nightmares a home. Then you tore it down. The fear I reaped that day will echo for millenia.”

Solas knew better than to listen to it. That they were half-truths hardly mattered. He drew the demons power through his bindings, spinning and blending it with the magic of his orb. Flecks of angry red light burned off into a pure green flow. The Nightmare thrashed and struggled as it weakened.

“Did you know I met the Inquisitor who lingers in the back of your mind? Do you know what her greatest fear was?” It had spent its power recklessly calling allies to its side. It had gambled and lost, its words that had once echoed darkly in their minds was reduced to a rasping desperate whisper.

Still it mocked him. “That you would see through her lies and know her, and that knowing her would destroy you as it always has. Whatever did she mean by that, I wonder? She need not have worried. You never looked past the surface. You will die alone, harellan, and the only one you have to blame is yourself.”

He tore the last of its magic from its weakened grasp and watched as Hawke’s body collapsed. Her eyes no longer burned red with demonic possession and she looked around her with surprising clarity. Her gaze fell to him. “The apostate,” she said lightly, but he could see true recognition in her eyes. “I know what it knew of you,” she tried to laugh but lacked the energy, “and here I thought I was the one who messed up when I freed Corypheus.” Her eyelids fluttered, but she struggled to keep them open. “The Nightmare was a liar, you know.”

Solas nodded solemnly, “I know.”

“It wasn’t lying about that,” she said and her eyes closed for the last time.

“Collect her remains and deliver them to the nearest human outpost. The Champion is someone many still respect and I believe some of her friends may have survived,” Solas instructed.

“Is that truly necessary?” someone asked, he could not identify who.

“Yes,” he said facing them all, the orb he carried glowed with its newly harvested power. “It is.”

The first two prisons were dark and broken. Ghilan'nain and Andruil were free.

Solas was not certain what Mythal had done to them while he held them frozen in place, but once the spell was complete the darkness that both corrupted and powered them was gone. Now they were pure spirit, weak and without memory. Alive with a fresh start, either the kindest mercy or the harshest punishment he could imagine.

Solas had been wounded in the battle. Ghilan'nain’s beasts broke through his battle-guard while he was unable to move. He lost two of his best soldiers and had barely held to consciousness while Mythal took care of the errant Evanuris. If their first fight had been any indication of what they would face, then they were not ready.

Mythal saw to his care and had him carried to safety. When he woke, he was on a bed in Skyhold with Mythal ordering him to rest. Ordered to rest, like a resistant child who refused to lay down for the night. Solas accepted Mythal’s healing magic and admonishment passively and kept his mouth shut. Mythal left with a nod for the armored guard and a firm glare for him. He told himself that the attendant was there to see to his needs while he recovered and not a jailer.

He closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift through the currents of the Fade. It was natural that his thoughts turned to the Inquisitor in this place. She had made it hers once and his previous visits had made it second nature. He did not search for any time in particular, but a small beacon of emotion drew him and he focused enough to investigate.

“Not tonight, Cullen.” Vir’s voice drifted up the stairs of her quarters. “I’m… really tired.”

“Very well,” the Commander said neutrally, “I shall see you tomorrow.”

Light footsteps made their way slowly up the stairs until Vir appeared. She was wearing an over-sized night shirt and an exhausted expression.

She froze upon seeing him, it was then that he realized he was lying on her bed.

He stood quickly. “Apologies.”

She shook her head dismissing his words and dispelling her own paralysis. She crossed the room to the fireplace.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again, even the other you is gone now,” she said, banking the fire carefully.

He had not planned to return. He started to say as much, but instead his mouth said, “Cullen?”

She looked up from her task and stared at him. A rude noise emerged from the back of her throat. “No, not Cullen.”

He clasped his hands behind his back to keep them from fidgeting. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No,” she said, rising and making her way toward the bed. She moved slowly as if careful of several injuries. “I was going to sleep actually. I do that on occasion.”

“Ahh, then I will leave you to your rest,” he said.

“You can stay,” she said quietly, turning down the blanket and climbing in, “if you want. I don’t mind the company.”  She pointed at where he had been. “I promise I won’t try anything,” the ghost of a smile touched her lips.

He chuckled at the absurdity and returned to his side of the bed. He lay on his side and faced her, “What were you like the first time, when you didn’t know what would happen?”

She shrugged, a small movement in a pile of coverings. “Full of anger, guilt, and fear. I was no innocent when this started. I thought all of this was punishment. But I was so determined to make things right. When you sent me back I thought you were giving me another chance. I was grateful,” she bowed her head, “when I didn’t think I was going crazy.”

“And now?”

“I’m not afraid anymore.”

“No?” he asked. She shook her head. “Why not?”

“Because you’re here.” She reached out and tapped the bed next to his hand. “Now I know that this ends. I’m,” she thought for a moment then smiled, “happy.”

The lump in his throat kept him from replying for some time. When he could speak again he asked of smaller things, her past before the Inquisition, her training as an assassin. She asked him about the Vir Dirthara and the Archivist. She asked if the spirits were happier in his time. They spoke long into the night until her eyes closed and his next question went unanswered.

He watched her sleep before letting go of the memory. He drifted through the Fade, emotions warring inside him. Hundreds of scattered thoughts raced through his mind until one settled and refused to leave.

_It was not supposed to happen this way._

Solas drifted through the Fade, returning to Vir when he could find her. She was rarely at Skyhold after defeating Corypheus. She traveled, mostly alone, to the far reaches of Thedas sealing rifts and preparing for the future that only she was aware of. He could have gone further back in time to see her, but the effects of doing so would be unpredictable and confusing for both of them.

She seemed pleased to see him when he did find her. Sometimes they would stay in her quarters and talk about the places they had been. Other times they would hike through the mountains where no one would notice the Inquisitor talking to herself.

This time, she picked up the lute on the stand next to her desk. She tuned it with deft fingers and played a song for him. He knew that she spoke elven fluently, but he did not expect her to know the words to  _Ame Amin_. He wondered if she related to the song now as much as he did. She had no magic of her own, but the words and melody curled around him, somehow making the loneliness of the song comforting instead of sad.

He remained silent long after the song had ended, not wanting to break the spell of its sound. “I’ve never heard you play before or sing for that matter,” he said finally.

She put the lute back on its stand, much to his disappointment. “I’m not very good at it,” she replied. An incredibly untrue statement to his thinking. “But I played the Game once or twice and most people overlook the bards when they’re actually behaving as bards.” The corner of her mouth turned up. “I’ve never played for you before.”

“Never?” he was surprised and possibly hurt or perhaps pleased.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I only play for someone I intend to kill,” she said and grinned.

The confession startled a laugh from him. “I see. I suppose such a gift makes it a fair trade.”

She blushed and looked away shaking her head. Then the mark on her hand sparked furiously. She clenched her fist tightly and pressed her knuckles into the palm of her other hand. The storm of sparks and magic subsided and she breathed through the pain until she could speak again. Solas restrained himself from attempting to help with his magic. There was nothing he could do, as much as he wanted to.

“The Exalted Council is soon,” she said, “which is why I’m glad you’re here. I’ve noticed a pattern to your arrivals. You show up at some point in the future, but it’s always at Skyhold and I don’t have much longer here.” She had kept the Inquisition intact, but her forces had moved out less than a week after the Qunari’s failed invasion. “If this is the only place you can find me, I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Oh,” he said not knowing what to say. “I-”

“And I had a favor to ask.”

“Of course,” he replied, “within reason,” he amended quickly.

She laughed and brought out a chess board and a lacquered box. She placed it in front of him. “In all our years I’ve only won twice.”

“In ten thousand years?” he asked, surprised.

“We didn’t play every day,” she said defensively.

He looked from the board and back to her face, there was so little he could do for her…

“If you’re thinking of letting me win like Cullen tries to, I actually will kill you.”

He chuckled and indicated for her to set up the pieces, “King’s pawn to E4.”

She sighed. He had probably used that opening move a thousand times, but he always played differently even if the strategy was the same. He would never dream of insulting her with anything less than his best, but she probably knew that.

They played for sixteen hours before he finally won. He supposed his life was safe. She probably knew that as well.

Solas continued to explore the Fade on his own. He was vaguely aware of healing magic being applied to his body from time to time. It was not enough to disrupt his slumber, nor did it seem that anyone wished for him to wake.

Vir had said her goodbyes. There had been no tears only dry humor and an acceptance of what was to come. He, on the other hand, had not been ready. He searched for her again, an idea forming in his mind.

Vir was surprised at his sudden appearance in her quarters, but she waved her stump at him from behind her desk. The bandages around her wounded arm looked damp and there was a crate of empty bottles next to her. Whether they had once contained alcohol or healing elixirs was difficult to determine.

“You should change that bandage,” he pointed out.

“I will in a minute,” she said, leaning over her chair to rummage through a different crate. She selected a bottle that was definitely alcohol and pulled out the cork with her teeth. She downed half of it before sighing and leaning back in her chair.

“Someone should be here to help you,” he said as he glanced around the room. Half of her belongings were packed in boxes, most of them books and papers. A small set of traveling gear was stacked neatly next to the wardrobe, the only part of the room not in disarray.

“In other lifetimes someone would be. Apparently, people are less nurturing when you’ve been an asshole for the last several years.”  

“Are you drunk?”

“Not yet,” she said taking another sip, “but I will be soon. So… what can I do for you?”

He had considered a number of ways to make his request, but her current state did not allow for anything except the direct approach. He crossed the room to stand next to her. “May I stay with you?”

She stopped with the bottle half-way to her lips, “I’m sorry?”

He looked down at his hands. “As you have deduced, I can only find you at Skyhold and after this I do not know where you went. I could search for you, but I would be looking through both space and time. It is unlikely that I could locate you unless I knew where and when to look. However, if I follow you from Skyhold, I can go where ever you do, but I would be with you constantly.”

“Why would you want to do that?” she asked carefully.

“I have seen your other lives and I have learned much of those Inquisitors, but they were not you. They did not make your sacrifices. They did not attempt to face me alone. I have made many assumptions about you when we were adversaries. Some have already been proven wrong.”

“Not all of them.” Vir warned, “Maybe not even most of them. You were never a fool, Solas, I didn’t pretend to be terrible. I was terrible. I will be terrible. You will not like what you will see.”

“I know,” he said, “but I want to know the truth.”

“What about your people?” she protested. “By my estimates, it’ll be another five years before you tear down the Veil. Don’t you have more important things to do than follow me around?”

“I am asleep, recovering my strength. It is likely I will remain that way for some time, but someone will wake me if I am needed.”

She refused to look at him. “This isn’t a good idea, Solas.”

He knelt next to her trying to capture her gaze. “Please,” he said, his voice a near whisper. “I want to know you.”

She shook her head violently. “If this hurts you, it could-”

“It won’t. Not the way you fear,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

She frowned and stared at the bottle in her hand though she did not drink from it. Finally she looked at him and narrowed her eyes, “You’re not in any way using the fact that I like you to get what you want, are you?”

The admission was unexpected. He contrived to look innocent. “I would never.”

She snorted, but she could not stop herself from smiling.

“Fine,” she said and he stayed.


	12. Monster

Vir retrieved a long leather case from the floor. She placed it on the desk and opened it. Inside, nestled in a cushion of silk and fur, was a marvel of artificing and enchanting combined. Solas stared at the object in wonder.

“How-” he began, glancing at Vir then stopped as his voice failed.

Vir unwound the bandage from her arm. The wound was a combination of surgical cuts and magical burns. The mark had made a wreck of her arm and he had not been gentle in its removal. Threads of green magic still lingered about the wound and a webbed pattern of scars circled the middle of her bicep. She reached inside the leather case and picked up the first part of the contraption.

The prosthetic arm was actually two pieces. One piece, a sleeve built of crystal, leather, and metal. The other piece, an elbow joint, forearm, and hand complete with articulating fingers.

She took a deep breath and shoved her damaged stump into the sleeve. Solas understood why she had allowed the wound to remain raw. Somehow the metal and crystal reacted to her blood, the enchantment binding the sleeve to her flesh. It was obviously painful and Vir leaned against the desk, stifling a scream into her fist. She recovered quickly and Solas came to the disturbing realization that she had done this many times before.

She wiped her streaming eyes and sniffled. “That wasn’t as bad as the first few times,” she said confirming his suspicions. “They really improved that part.”

“Who?” Solas asked, both horrified and fascinated.

“Bianca and Dagna,” Vir said, taking slow deep breaths. “This,” she said holding up the rest of the prosthetic, “is mostly their doing.” She examined the hand and fingers, checking it for defects.

“I did not realize Bianca and Dagna worked together.”

“Neither do they. I picked up artificing from Three-Eyes a long time ago. I made some designs myself then I took them to Dagna to see if she could improve them. She used the technique behind Samson’s armor to make the base that binds to my stump. It protects the bone too, once it’s bonded. Hurts like anything though.”

Solas followed along until the last part, “Who is Samson?”

“He,” she began then stopped, “nevermind, you wouldn’t know him. He followed Corypheus, his armor was crafted of red lyrium. This uses the same principles without the insanity and death.”

“I see,” Solas said, “and Bianca’s part?”

“We could never get the fingers to work, so I took the designs to Bianca. Every time they made improvements, I memorized the schematics. It was an iterative thing.” Satisfied with her examination of the arm she placed it over the socket. Once connected the whole thing pulsed with life, she flexed the fingers experimentally.

“You memorized the schematics for that?”

“Well yes,” she wrinkled her nose at him, “I don’t get to bring notes.”

“Incredible,” Solas said. With that kind of memory, he wondered how much of her experience she could add to the Vir Dirthara. He dismissed the thought quickly. “I can see why you were kinder to Varric than the others,” he said shrewdly, “Bianca would not have been as helpful otherwise.”

Vir shook her head, “No, it’s because he’s the ruler of Kirkwall. I need him to route supplies for me and take in refugees when necessary. Varric moves mountains for his friends and puts up roadblocks for everyone else. That is, if he’s not distracted by his other friends.”

Solas paused, taken aback. “Is that why you left Hawke in the Fade?”

“Hawke and I have had philosophical differences in the past that I don’t have the patience for this time around.” She shrugged. “Is leaving Stroud behind because Varric is my friend a more noble thing to do?”

He had to admit that it was not, still…

“Having second thoughts?” she asked.

“Are you trying to dissuade me?”

“You wanted the truth. I may as well start now.”

He shook his head. “I do want the truth. I cannot say that I have not done worse.”

Remarkably, she declined to agree with him in detail. Instead, she stood and crossed her arms.

“Ground rules,” she said, “you may add your own if you wish.”

“All right,” he said clasping his hands behind his back.

“No trying to convince me not to kill people, even or perhaps especially not your people.”

“I expected that,” he said and considered his own circumstances. “Do not ask me if someone suspicious is one of my agents.”

“Fair enough,” she agreed. “No talking or anything else distracting when I’m around other people.”

“Of course,” he frowned, “that would be childish. Speaking of childish, no insulting me when you speak to your people about me. I can hear you after all.”

“Addendum, if they insult you first I have to participate or it’ll look suspicious.”

“Accepted.” He would take their agreement seriously, but he could not help but smile.

She took one look at his face and turned away, giggling. “This is such a terrible idea.”

 

Solas had assigned several agents to monitor Vir’s activities whenever she left her quarters. He had a kept constant watch on her previously, but spies who ventured too close ended up dead. The rest of his agents were reassigned to spy on her allies. Somehow, no one had been able to catch her leaving Skyhold.

He watched with interest as she covered her vallaslin with theater cosmetics, donning long leather gloves to cover her arms. Surely it could not have been that easy to elude their surveillance.

A human woman, a servant by her looks, carried a laundry hamper into Vir’s quarters. Vir stowed her traveling pack in the hamper along with a plain set of daggers. The servant gave Vir her hat and jacket. She put on the disguise making her a passable copy of the servant, but anyone leaving Vir’s quarters should have been watched.

Vir carried the hamper through the main hall past all of his spies and took the stairs near Josephine’s office. She shed her borrowed clothing as she walked down the empty stairway, adding a cloak and shouldering her pack. She armed herself with her daggers and used the kitchen exit to reach the courtyard. Now she was just an elven scout, completely unrelated to the laundress who had left Vir’s quarters minutes before.

The courtyard was busy. Large groups of workers moved supplies as the Inquisition prepared to leave for their new headquarters in Val Royeaux. Vir joined a group of elves heading toward the gate.

They were his agents.

The lead nodded his head cautiously at her. She nodded back, but said nothing.

“Where are you heading, friend?” he asked in elven.

“I’ve been assigned to Redcliffe,” she answered in kind, her accent was perfect. The other elf relaxed.

He offered his left hand in greeting, “Athim,” his agent said giving Vir his real name. Solas frowned.

She took his hand with her left and clasped it firmly. The lyrium was was warm and the leather was soft, it must have felt real to him. “Sa'venin,” she replied.

His agent smiled and continued in elven, “We are traveling to Kirkwall to monitor the Inquisitor’s correspondence with the ruler there. You are welcome to join us as far as Lake Calenhad.”

“Thank you, I will.” She said and followed the small group out of Skyhold, passing directly under the agents assigned to watch for her. She only spoke when asked a question, but the group conversed freely in front of her. By the time she parted ways with them a few days later, she had learned their names, how long they had been active, and their new assignments. Athim stopped her as she turned down the road that led to Redcliffe.

“Here, take this.” He handed her a crystal. It was similar to the kind that Dorian had given her in the past. “It contacts the main relay, but only works for a short time. Use it if the situation is dire.”

She pocketed the crystal with a nod of thanks.

It was only when she was far away that she glanced in his direction. Solas had obeyed the rules of their agreement and kept his mouth shut, but the failure of his agents had been difficult to watch.

“You look like you just drank an entire pot of tea.” Her eyes danced, but at least she did not laugh.

“How could they not sense you are not one of us?” It had not occurred to him until he said it that she could take his words as an insult.

She shrugged, “I don’t think any of them are very strong in magic. They’ve confessed as much before.”

Of course she had known who his agents were, she had probably found them all centuries ago.

“If you knew who they were, why did you allow them to stay?”

“If I killed the ones I knew, you’d replace them with ones I don’t,” she said reasonably.

“Fair point,” he said. “Thank you for not killing them.”

“It’s early days yet,” she replied and he knew it was too true.

 

The “Inquisitor” was working out of Val Royeaux. The Inquisition was now a branch of service directly under the Divine. Solas had agents throughout the organization, some of them assisted the Inquisitor directly. He had been well aware that the Inquisitor was not at Val Royeaux. Further, the official Inquisition was not the force sending the orders that harmed his operation most. The problem was, the false Inquisitor at Val Royeaux was neither idle nor harmless and he could not afford to ignore her. His agents were spread thin attempting to protect his interests from the Inquisition’s forces while trying to root out the Inquisitor’s true location.

Vir commanded the real Inquisition from Wycome. She had set up a simple apothecary shop where she sold herbs, mixed potions, and transcribed recipes. She lived above her shop in a small, but cozy, apartment. She cooked her meals on a tiny kitchen fire or ordered food delivered from a shop. From the outside it was completely ordinary, not the life or environment of the most ruthless and bloodthirsty military leader in Thedas. It actually seemed rather ordinary from the inside as well.

She ran her shop without conflict from humans, much to his surprise. Life was different for an elf in Wycome, the city elves and the Keeper of her clan were on the City Council and the elven sector was no longer called an alienage nor did it resemble anything of the sort. One thing he had credited her with was caring for her people, even if it seemed to be to the exclusion of all others.

“I knew of your ties to this city,” Solas said when they first arrived. “I sent an agent to discover if you might have a base of operations here. They never found anything. You do not even bother to cover your vallaslin.”

Vir looked up from the orders she had been writing and smiled, “Every organization is prone to corruption,” she said and returned to her work. The thought had occurred to him before, but he had believed she was incapable of such subtlety. He had been wrong about much.

They settled into a daily pattern where she would run her shop and he would stand next to her and read. Wycome’s library was better than he expected and no one thought twice about an apothecary who read books. In the evenings they would talk, sharing the knowledge of their many years, but both were careful to avoid subjects that would reveal too much about the immediate future.

He was certain that she was receiving coded messages from her people via deliveries and sending out orders the same way. She kept a large map of Thedas on the wall that displayed trade routes and delivery schedules, not exactly typical of an apothecary, but nothing that screamed combat. She allowed him to read everything she received and sent. He had noticed a pattern that could indicate troop movement, but he had not yet discovered the key.

Solas had wanted to learn the truth of what she had done to fight against him. He wondered if all he would discover was that she occasionally gave her impoverished customers too much change and substituted higher quality potions than what they had paid for.

 

Solas sat on the couch in front of the fireplace, memorizing a diagram of Vir’s prosthetic. She had drawn the schematic for him and added Dagna and Bianca’s explanations of how the device worked. The words were written verbatim including Dagna’s penchant for rambling. Solas could almost hear the brilliant dwarf giggling at the end of an explanation.

He looked up at a noise and found Vir watching him from the doorway. The stairway behind her was dark, she had closed shop for the night.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, unable to interpret her expression.

“No,” she said, looking mildly embarrassed, “I was just thinking that this is the longest I’ve known you… the same version of you.” She shrugged and sat down next to him.

He waited for her to say more, but she only stared at the fire. He had wanted to ask her something and he supposed that it was as close to an opening as he would get. “May I ask you about our time together?” He faltered at the wording, “I mean your time with the other-”

“Our time,” she said.

“Our time,” he repeated.

“Sure.”

“We were not usually lovers, were we? I investigated many worlds before I ever heard myself call you vhenan. Why was it different?”

She pursed her lips thoughtfully before answering. “We were together the first time, but after that it was strange.”

“Because of what you knew of me?” he could not blame her, knowing how he must have seemed to someone who knew the whole truth. “Or because of what I had done?” He could not blame her for that either.

“Partly that, but…” she struggled to find the words, “I knew when you would let me kiss you the first time. I knew what to say to get you to admit that you loved me. I knew how to touch you to get you to take me to bed.” She shook her head almost angrily. “That kind of power over someone is wrong. I couldn’t take advantage of you that way, so even though I knew how you felt, I stayed away.

"But not always,” he said.

“No,” she said, “sometimes you pursued me.”

“Truly?” he laughed.

She made a face. “Is that funny to you or just impossible?”

“Neither,” he said still chuckling, “I am simply pleased I remembered how. Though now that I think of it, I believe I may have witnessed a few attempts. I am surprised you ever took me back.”

She smiled, but did not join him in disparaging his attempts at courting.

“Thank you,” he said.

“For what?”

“For not treating me like an echo or a copy. You treated me like a unique person.”

“You are a unique person,” she said. “Always stubborn and infuriating, but otherwise unique.” She looked at him from the side of her eye and grinned slyly. “May I ask  _you_ a question?”

“Yes,” he answered, but he had a feeling he would regret it.

“How much  _togetherness_ did you see?” Her eyebrow arched.

He actually choked, a difficult thing for a mental projection.

“That much? Was it an accident or did you stay to watch?”

“It was an accident of course,” he said indignantly.

“And you didn’t stay?” She grinned. “It doesn’t bother me, I mean I saw it in person.”

“Not the same thing,” he said. While he never did stay to watch, he had seen more than enough by accident. Still, he was pleased that she took no offense. “I am surprised I never observed myself using magic,” he mused.

A blank stare met his statement. So completely blank it could only mean…

“I have never used magic to pleasure you?”

“What?” She asked, still shocked.

“What was wrong with me?” he exclaimed, “Are you afraid of magic?”

“No.”

He leaned back and stared angrily at the fireplace.

“You’re very upset by this,” she said not bothering to hide her amusement.

He gestured helplessly, “I was in love with a beautiful woman, who was pliant and willing in my arms, who I have witnessed performing several acts that were obviously very pleasurable for me and I utterly failed to reciprocate to my best.”

A shocked silence met his unintended declaration. “There must have been a good reason. I certainly didn’t find anything lacking.” She was trying to placate him which only made it worse. She probably thought he was boring. He  _was_ boring.

“Perhaps,” she suggested, “you knew that I would have been self-conscious that I couldn’t return the favor in kind.”

“Is that true?”

“Certainly,” she said, not looking certain at all.

He huffed, brooding on the selfishness of his former incarnations.

After a long silence she spoke. “So… what would you have done?”

“I am not discussing that,” he said. “We should change the subject.”

She snickered. “You are the one who brought it up,” she reminded him. “Very well. What would you like to talk about?”

“Anything else,” he said, unable to think of anything else.

“You’re thinking about it right now aren’t you?”

“No.”

She laughed.

“I do not see why you are so pleased about this.”

She smiled at him fondly, somehow taking the sting out of the embarrassment. “Ten thousand years and you still surprise me, how can I not be pleased.”

 

The days were gentle and passed quickly. So kind were they that it was almost possible for Solas to believe they were endless. He could more than tolerate this kind of life. Knowledge to pursue at his leisure. A good friend to pass the hours with, one with wisdom of her own, a spirit unique and rare. But the peace of the little shop was an illusion.

By his estimates his former self was encountering the full force of her resistance and the aftermath of its sting. The war was raging outside the walls of the city and Vir knew it. He could see the way each message upset her and how she agonized over each response. She was not choosing simple potions to send to outposts with such care.

Today, a special courier had delivered a broach with a large crystal set in the middle. She received it with a look of both anticipation and dread. She closed the shop early and took her work upstairs.

He could no longer ignore the questions that hounded him.

“Was it truly necessary?” he asked. “Not the killing, but the taunting. You send messages with body counts and locations for my agents to intercept. I know it’s deliberate. Why do it?”

“I needed you to hate me, remember?” she said absently, reading through her latest set of orders. “And-” she began then stopped.

“And what?” he seized on her words.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said shaking her head. “The point is that I needed you to hate me and I succeeded.”

“You always have more than one reason for everything. Tell me why.”

She looked up from her papers, “Solas, what are you looking for?”

“The truth.”

“Really?”

“Of course,” he sputtered, “why else would I be here?”

He thought he saw disappointment, but she looked down to hide her expression. She licked her lips and gathered her papers. “If you’re looking for the truth, then why haven’t you asked me for the key to my cipher?”

He could say he had wanted to discover it for himself, but he had not truly been trying. He had no answer.

She raised her brows. “If you’re really here for the truth, then I think that it’s time you saw it.”

She got up and walked down the stairs. He reluctantly followed.

 

Vir knew that Solas was constructing a new orb. Doing so required a great deal of power and in this Veil shrouded world there were few sources that Solas was willing or able to harvest. Vir’s strategy was to horde them and she had spent the last few thousand years finding and memorizing their locations.

Her methods had nothing to do with his people, they were simply collateral damage. It was why her forces had managed to arrive before his or countered his so quickly. They were both going after the same prize. Ordinarily he would be pleased that she had not been targeting his people directly, but it was both of their standing orders that had caused so much chaos.

His people would sacrifice everything to obtain what they needed to rebuild their world. Her people were instructed to destroy the artifacts if obtaining them proved impossible. As a result, if her forces failed in their objective, they would unbind the magic in the artifact causing massive damage to everything: Veil, spirits, elves, and mortals.

Her strategy was applied not only by her own people, but by the Magisters who were only too happy to obtain new artifacts, and the Qunari who were only too happy to destroy them. Neither side cared where the intel for such things came from, only that there was power to obtain and they needed to get there first.

That was bad enough, but there was more.

She did not destroy the artifacts she captured, instead she used them as bait. Storing them in various facilities, she allowed his spies to learn of their location. Upon attempting to raid the warehouses, they would find an army there instead. His people would be interrogated then imprisoned. Both the Tevinter and Qunari had adopted her tactics and if his forces encountered them, they were not as gentle. In Tevinter they were likely sacrificed, in Seheron they were re-educated.

Solas stared at the map then back at Vir in horror. That she had managed to kill so many of his people when that was not even her goal somehow made it worse. If he had known, if he had sought a different source, if he had not relied so heavily on his spies within her organization, so much death could have been avoided. It galled him that she used the collective knowledge of her better selves to become so perfectly destructive.

She leaned against the counter watching him impassively. It was the mask she had worn while he knew her in the Inquisition. He could not see behind it then and he was not certain he wanted to try now.

“Why the taunting?” he asked again.

She sighed as if she was tired of the question or perhaps just tired. “Because I had no other way to tell you where to find your dead. It’s terrible not to know where your people are or what happened to them. It’s terrible to wonder where someone is, to wonder whether they’re still alive.” She shrugged helplessly at his incomprehension. “I told you it didn’t matter.”

It did matter, but he could not let it just yet. “The crystal is new,” he commented dully staring at the map. The tiny marks that had once meant health potions now meant the blood of his people and the map was covered with them.

“Crafted by Dorian, I suspect, but I’m using it to call in a favor from the Qun.” She smiled grimly. “They’re going to contact me for a target, but the timing will be tight hence the crystal. I have some Antiquities to destroy, a lot of them apparently.”

“What?” Solas said, his head snapping around. “What did you say?”

“Antiquities,” Vir said. “My spies intercepted some of your correspondence but it was in elven. They sent it to me to translate and you used the word Antiquities. We know your forces are moving a large shipment of something at the docs near Qarinus. The manifest claims that they’re statues from further inland, but the boxes are heavily shielded. No reason to do that for statues.” She tilted her head thoughtfully. “I have never been able to stop you from finishing your orb, but I’ve never located this shipment either. The Arishok is lending me a dreadnaught thanks to that tip you gave me all those years ago. They just need me to give them a target. This one should be almost bloodless, even the crew should be able to escape if they don’t try to go down with the ship.”

Even with his body asleep far away, Solas could feel his pulse racing and he struggled to remain calm. All this time he thought she knew. “Vir,” he breathed, “Antiquities are not what you think they are.”

“What are they?” she asked slowly.

“It was our code word for our families.”

“Families…?” she said her eyes growing larger with each moment, “Solas, don’t…”

“I am not lying, Vir.” He said moving to her side. “I know what I agreed to, but I must break that promise now.” He pleaded, “So few children are left to my kind.”

“Children?” She covered her mouth and looked away. She took a few deep breaths thinking furiously then clasped her hands together. “Okay, okay, give me another target.”

His hope had built at her first reaction, but fell just as quickly. “What? I can’t.”

“Solas, the Qunari are going to contact me and I have to give them a target. If I don’t, they’ll consider our partnership finished and they’ll turn back to fighting Tevinter. Then Tevinter will be too occupied and neither of them will stop you. I have to give them something.”

“Just tell them the wrong ship.”

“Then it’ll look like the Qun attacked Tevinter again and the same thing will happen only the Arishok will blame me and they’ll attack the Inquisition as well.”

Solas clenched his fists. “Vir, there is nothing I can give you.”

“Nothing you can give me that won’t compromise  _your_  goals.” The crystal began to glow. Vir looked at it then back at him. Now it was her turn to plead. “Please? I told you I haven’t given up. I have to try to stop you.”

He shook his head, frustration and grief overwhelming him. “You can’t. You are already dead, you can’t change that,” he said angrily, “you’re all dead.”

She shrank away from him, unable to meet his gaze, then her eyes grew cold. “And so are they,” she said, picking up the crystal. She gave the dreadnaught its target.

“No!” Solas shouted and woke.


	13. Banal'ras

Solas woke at Skyhold, fully healed from his wounds, but weak from his extended slumber. He had spent more than a year with Vir, he did not know how long he had been asleep. He took his time sitting up and allowed the attendant to care for him, all the while wanting to storm away in a display of anger.

“What has happened since I slept?” he asked the attendant. 

“Grave news, Fen'Harel,” he answered, handing him a restorative drink. “The humans attempted to march on our borders. They did not get far, but they did destroy one of our settlements. The people were panicked and there was fighting among us. I was here and I do not know the details.”

“Why did no one wake me?” he asked attempting to rise, but it was too soon.

“What would you have done?” Mythal’s dual voice called from the doorway. “You were in no shape to help then, nor are you now.”

“There are other ways I could have helped,” Solas said.

“Not in this.” Mythal sat on a chair across from his bed. “The people were panicked that the humans managed to reach us. They thought the end would come again and war was inevitable. Some of them tried to free the Evanuris.”

“That is madness,” Solas exclaimed.

“Of course,” Mythal shrugged calmly. “Our forces stopped them, but your presence would only have incited more chaos. The people are frightened. They are looking for someone powerful to save them and tell them what to do. We are managing for now. We have found some spirits to help calm them.” The boyish face scrutinized his. “I did not expect you to wake for some time yet.” A cryptic smile. “Bad dreams?”

Solas’s lip curled, but he shook his head. “I learned much. I learned the truth. Sometimes the truth is not what we hope.”

“It almost never is,” Mythal agreed. “Well, now that you’re awake. What will you do next?”

Solas considered his people, his duty, and the truth of what he had learned. “I will take down the eluvian field. The power within it is vast and tied to me. With that and my orb we can finish our task.” He leaned forward testing his ability to stand. The restorative had helped and he was only a little unsteady. “I am not ready yet,” he said, stating the obvious. “It will take time to study their construction and more time to take them down safely. Destroying a few was painful, I must be careful.”

Mythal watched him through glittering golden eyes. “Good,” they said.

Solas tried to begin his study of the eluvian field immediately, but the well of his emotions made it impossible for him to focus. The ship Vir’s dreadnaught destroyed had carried children and their caretakers. Even the caretakers were those who were too weak or sick to aid in their cause. They were being taken to safety before the removal of the Veil. Many of them would require protection from the initial return of the Fade and he had prepared a place for them.

He had not known she was targeting artifacts. He had thought she was attacking his people. It was one of the reasons they had chosen the word ‘Antiquities’ in the first place. Of all her many operations, that had been the one he held against her. Of all her many actions, that had been the one she was ignorant of. He had been the one that changed that, but did it make a difference?

Solas was caught in a loop of self-recrimination and blame. In the end he realized that she had been right. Nothing they did had mattered. He believed she had knowingly killed them. The only difference now was that he was certain.

Solas had discovered a grove filled with colorful trees and idyllic landscaping. Someone had created it for meditation. Each tree was surrounded by a perfect circle of grass. The grass was as soft as plush fabric and delightfully cool between his toes. The trees were artfully aged and as the sun filtered through their branches, the shifting shadows offered a distraction from his convoluted thoughts. It was away from the new city and away from the eluvian field. It was precisely what he needed.

Solas fled to the grove and wept.

He mourned for the woman Vir had been and the one she had felt forced to become. He had asked her in the end what she knew of sacrifice and she replied that she would never tell him. Now he knew, her self, her soul, his love, and it was his fault. He had destroyed yet another beautiful thing in his world and what he had built from it was falling apart. He promised the Vir she had been that he would not waste it.

Solas spent several weeks simply listening to the wind, allowing time to pass and heal what it could. Once he was calmer, the spirits began to join him. Playful wisps illuminated the shadowy branches and other spirits took up residence under the trees mimicking his pose. He let the remains of his anger go and focused on his task. He closed his eyes studying the eluvian field from memory. 

An ear piercing shriek shattered his concentration.

Solas opened his eyes looking for the source of the disturbance. A large group of people followed the floating paths in the distance. The shrieks turned to laughter, childish laughter.

Solas stood and walked toward the group. Abelas and a small squad of sentinels led a crowd of children and their caretakers, all battered, tired, and weak, but alive.

“Lethallin,” Abelas said grasping both his arms in an unusual display of exuberance. “I did not know you were awake. We found them.”

“Found them?” Solas said, wincing as the laughter returned to shrieks.

“We thought them lost when the Inquisitor attacked, but they were warned just in time and escaped through an eluvian. We did not know until now. The agent who saved them was not strong in magic and the portal he used to evacuate their chambers was destroyed with the ship.” Abelas motioned for his sentinels to continue without him. “We discovered them as we began to explore the old pathways.”

Solas found himself unable to breath, only another high pitched screech managed to shake him from his daze.

Abelas laughed and began following the group toward the city. “Finally, a good thing,” he said. “One truly good thing.”

“Who,” Solas choked and cleared his throat, “who saved them?”

“It was an agent stationed near Kirkwall named Athim,” he said. “As I said, he was not strong in magic, but he used the eluvians to reach them just in time. I will reward him with command of a squad after he recovers.” They walked for a bit, falling further and further behind as the children surged ahead and their caretakers hurried after them. “Another agent in the field used a crystal to contact him with the information. The other Kirkwall agents traced the message to Wycome, but she was no longer there. Her name was Sa'venin. If she yet lives, she should be rewarded as well.”

“Thank you, Abelas,” Solas said. “She does not.”

Solas returned to the grove and found his thoughts circling themselves once again. Vir had warned Athim in time to save them. It was something she would only have done because she knew that they were people.  _That_ was something she only knew because he had told her. Would his agent have saved them without her information? Why were they only discovered now? It had been years and they had been searching for survivors the whole time.

Could it be coincidence or had she found the power to change things? Would she know that she succeeded?  _Of course not._  He answered the last question himself. Athim’s fellow agents had not found her. She would have left as soon as she broke cover to contact them. He could not go back to her now even if he tried and he did not know where she went next.

She would never know that she had made a difference. He could never thank her.

“You could find her again,” a spirit, in the form of a lumpy purple cloud, said. Compassion drifted next to him, but gave the impression of sitting. It was the spirit he had often seen near the grove. It had also lingered with the other spirits at the edge of the eluvian field.

“I do not know where she went,” Solas replied honestly.

“But you do know where she will be once or where she was once after you left.”

“What,” he said trying to piece together what the spirit meant, “I dont-”

“ _Kill her_ ,” Compassion hissed. “ _I do not care if she fights for her people, such a vile creature should not exist in any world. Find her and kill her. Whatever it takes._ ”

Those had been his words when reports of her activities reached him. He had sent assassins after her. Four of them had been his, they hunted her for over a year. One by one they all turned up dead. The fifth assassin had been a Crow because he could not spare any more of his people. The Crow had demanded assistance in tracking her and he was forced to arrange an ambush. It was the one time he had known where she would be and when.

“Thank you,” Solas said.

“Are you going to look for her?” Compassion asked.

“I do not know if I should,” he confessed. “We may have changed things for the better, but perhaps it was my doing that created the situation in the first place.” He had given her the means to blackmail the Arishok for a dreadnaught. He could not know if she would have had enough leverage before.

“Did she help?” Compassion asked.

“Yes,” Solas answered. In such simplistic terms it was easy to see the good in things. “She helped.”

“Will you help her?”

“I do not know if I can,” Solas began, then he paused peering at the spirit. It lacked form almost completely, even more so than most spirits. “Are you Cole? Did you call yourself Cole once?”

Compassion fixed him with a stare. “Cole was dying but I am not. You want to know if it’s possible to change things. You want to know if she made a difference.”

“Yes,” Solas admitted. “It might mean that I could help her.”

Compassion considered his words and his thoughts, “Then I am Cole.”

Solas did not need to return to Skyhold, Vir was nowhere near its location. He rested comfortably in the small room he had taken in the new city. Cole hovered nearby insisting on staying to help. Solas closed his eyes and sent his mind across the Fade.

He searched for Denerim, not long before his orb was ready.

Vir was attending a formal audience with the Duke of Carden. She had resisted meeting with anyone after the Exalted Council, but the Inquisition needed the Duke’s support to supply their campaigns in the north. He had insisted on meeting with her and not her “representative.”

The man was loyal to the Inquisition. He had been impossible to bribe, corrupt, or intimidate. That was until they discovered he had an illegitimate half-sister and had been sending money to his nephew. All it took was a trinket from the boy’s room and the man yielded. With a heavy heart, he arranged a meeting with the Inquisitor. The Crow would take care of the rest.

Vir had been uncanny in detecting traps and avoiding his people. Solas expected her to have the same intuition here. After all, she had escaped unscathed in his memory. However, as he neared the building where she was to meet the Duke, he could see that she was formally garbed. Her left sleeve draped loosely over some kind of prosthetic, but it was not a weapon and she did not appear to suspect anything.

She had long grown used to his partially visible presence. She rarely reacted to anything he did while she was in the company of other people. However, it would take more than familiarity for her to ignore a giant six eyed wolf running directly at her.

He thought she might freeze at the sight of him, but instead she leaped backward. The Crow’s blade narrowly missed.

“It’s an ambush,” he called out, but his words were unnecessary. She shot a grappling line out a window and pulled herself onto the roof. The Crow was quick to pursue after throwing a smoke bomb to confuse her escort.

Vir was at a disadvantage, she wore no armor and her dagger looked vaguely ornamental. She and the Crow were matched for speed and his skill seemed at least equal to hers. The assassin called out Antivan insults, Vir saved her breath for the fight.

His aggressive style depended on athleticism. He would leap forward, landing perilously close to her to make a few slashing strikes. Then he would leap back again out of range. He took advantage of her missing arm, favoring attacks on that side. She fought conservatively, retreating rather than parrying when he drew too close. The Crow’s attacks slowly backed her to the end of the roof toward the river.

Once she felt the ledge behind her she allowed him to leap to her side again. This time she did not retreat, instead she bound and disarmed one of his daggers and dodged under the other, narrowly evading his attack. She closed with him, spinning to keep him off balance, and let herself fall over the edge. The move surprised the Crow. It surprised Solas. He could only stare as she fell with the assassin, slitting his throat on the way down. At the last moment she shot her grappling hook again, swinging out over the river onto the walkway running parallel. She did not break stride nor look back as the assassin’s body hit the water.

Solas hastened to follow.

Vir navigated narrow alleyways in the most rundown part of Denerim. The city had prospered during the Inquisition’s height, but the recent conflict with his forces had taken its toll everywhere. She slowed when she reached a particularly dilapidated and abandoned building and felt her way along the darkened hallways. She lifted a hatch in the floor at the end of a corridor, revealing a basement ladder and climbed down.

She closed and locked the hatch behind her and opened tiny windows near the ceiling to let in air. Their thin light was the room’s only illumination.

She leaned against the wall with her eyes closed and slid to the floor. The narrow escape had rattled her and the effects of it were beginning to catch up.

“Are you all right?” Solas asked when she was still shivering minutes later with her eyes squeezed shut.

“Go fuck yourself, Solas,” she said then winced. “Sorry.”

“Do not apologize, I deserved-”

“No…” she growled in frustration, pulling off her jacket and checking it for damage. A spot of blood and a hole in the sleeve indicated a cut. She found the corresponding wound on her left arm above her stump. “Damn, he got me.”

“Was the blade poisoned?”

“He was an assassin. That’s like asking if the blade was sharp and yes the blade was fucking sharp.” She winced again at her own words and touched the wound. She sniffed the blood on her fingers then tasted it. “Interrogation cocktail, great. At least it’s not the usual. Ugh. Just ignore everything I say.”

“What does it do?” Solas asked carefully, expecting another rebuke.

“It’s supposed to make you tell the truth, but really it just makes you say whatever is on your mind. Then it causes hallucinations, they scare the fuck out of you, and you’re willing to tell anyone anything.”

“Is it lethal?”

She crawled to a box in the corner, selecting vials mostly by touch. She drank the contents of two of them before answering. “Only if I brain myself when the hallucinations start.” She thought for a moment, “I have heard of that happening, but it’s rare. The effects will probably last a day. I just dosed myself so that I sleep through most of it. Wish me luck.”

She felt her way to the bedroll in the corner and curled up on her side facing the wall. “Thanks for warning me,” she said.

“You are welcome,” he managed to reply.

“You don’t have to stay.”

“Would you like me to leave?” he asked.

“I’ve never wanted you to leave,” she answered.

“I-,” he began, but she was already asleep.

Luck was not with Vir and the hallucinations woke her. She was aware of her situation, but that knowledge did not stop the visions from terrorizing her. She backed into a corner, exhausted and sick, her thin veneer of calm crumbling. She covered her head with her arms and screamed.

Solas went to her side. “Vir. Vir! Look at me.” Wild eyes looked at him then back at the visions that haunted her. “Whatever you see, they are not there, just look at me, you are safe.”

Her voice was hoarse from screaming and her laughter was more of a croak. “Safe. Because you would never kill me, right?” She pointed at his face. “Not a thousand times, right? Do you want to know what I see? I see  _you_. I see what you became.” Something moved in her altered vision and she pushed it away, batting at nothing. She squeezed her eyes shut and stifled another scream. She began knocking her head into the wall.

He pushed aside the guilt that choked him and tried to make his voice soothing. “Vir, look at me, that will not happen again. I will not become that monster. You did it. You saved me.”

Her eyes popped open, “Why did you keep bringing me back? I’m no one. I’m not even a mage. I couldn’t figure out how to help you or what you wanted me to do.”

“I’m sorry, Vir,” his voice broke, “I am so sorry.”

She reached up as if to touch his face. “I forgive you. If I have a right to, I do. I love you so much… it just wasn’t what you needed.”

“Vir, I-”

“It wasn’t that you didn’t love me enough. You just… hated yourself too much.” Her gaze was far too knowing, her words too close to the truth. He tried to look away and failed. “You didn’t want to be happy. Your solution had to hurt because that’s what you deserved.”

She raised her chin proudly, her resolve countering her terror. “I made you hate me more.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t.”

“You did,” she said fiercely. “It was what you needed. The only sad part was that it was so easy, I just had to be myself. Everything you saw, that was  _me_ ,  _my_ choices. No advisers, no Inquisition, just me.” She crawled back to her bedroll and curled up under the blanket. “So don’t be sorry about killing me, Solas. You did the right thing.”


	14. Freed Oh Fallen Ward

 

A sigh emerged from beneath the pile of blankets. Vir rubbed the bridge of her nose and opened her eyes.

“Why am I always alive when I wake up?” she asked the ceiling. She looked around and seemed surprised to find him still sitting there. “How bad was it?” she asked.

Solas tried to make his voice work, but he failed. His expression must have said everything.

“That bad.”

“You said what was on your mind,” he managed finally. “There were a few surprises.”

“Which was more surprising, that I have a filter or that I’m an even bigger asshole without it?” She stood with the help of the wall, stretching carefully and checking herself for injury.

“I am sorry about the assassin. Such tactics should have been beneath me.”

“Don’t insult my profession,” she said, her humor returned for a moment then disappeared just as quickly. “Besides, I murdered children. I deserve it.”

“You didn’t,” he had almost forgotten the reason he came. “The agent you contacted saved them. You saved them.”

She bit her lip and looked away. Her body shook and she reached out to the wall again for support, finally her shoulders sagged and she blew out a breath. She looked back at him, one corner of her mouth turned up, but it was not a smile. “That explains why you came back,” she said sardonically. “Well, don’t nominate me for Divine, I didn’t know if it would work.”

“You tried, that is what was important.”

“Ahh, trying,” she said, cleaning out the cut left by the Crow. “That thing I do, followed by whatever would have happened anyway.”

“You cannot know that. We have been operating under a theory of how this works, nothing more.”

“Hmm,” she considered his words then shrugged. “Well, I’m glad it worked.”

She stripped off her ruined clothing. Even in the dim light he was shocked at what the years had done to her.

If memory served him, his people had hunted her for two years. Whatever rest her time as an apothecary had given her, his people had long taken back. New scars crisscrossed her ribs and a large one traversed her back. She had been lean before, but now she was nothing but whipcord, steel will, and bone.  

He had imagined at the time that she was somewhere hidden on an estate out of their grasp, living richly while their people fought and died. It was what her decoys had led him to believe. Instead, she had been running and hiding, surfacing only to send information to her people. Everything unnecessary had been stripped away or lost.

He watched her button her shirt with one hand. He was not surprised at her dexterity, but he admired it nonetheless. Twenty buttons quickly paired from her navel ending at her throat. Callused fingers tapped her chin. Her lips turned up in a smile.

“Solas?”

“Hmm?” he said, his eyes still fixed on what had become of her body and his mind still far away.

“I’ve been using words at you all this time, you know.”

He had not.

“I said that I’m going to disappear now. I won’t be sending out orders. It will give you time to believe that you succeeded.”

“Yes,” Solas confirmed, “I did believe that until the Crow failed to collect his payment. When the body of the assassin finally turned up, my agents were terrified that they had lost you again. They feared retribution, half of our safe-houses were abandoned, it was quite an expensive operation.”

She made a face. “I don’t know if I should be sorry or proud.”

“I should have been wiser.”

“I had the advantage of knowing you better than you could have predicted.”

“That is true, but I am still sorry for all of this.”

He had meant so much more, but she took it to mean the assassin. “We’re at war, Solas. That’s how wars are fought.”

“Still,” he said, a memory and an idea taking root. “I would like to make it up to you.”

“Really?” she said, “Like how?”

“Would you like to rob me?”

 

They traveled south through the Brecilian forest. He did most of the talking as it posed no risk from any predators, human, elven, or beast. He told her of the forces he kept there and his surprise at how many Dalish had pledged to join him after his intentions became known. Vir smiled at that, but kept quiet.

Solas studied her face as they walked. The year spent believing she had murdered children had weighed heavily on her. He suspected her gaunt appearance and general lack of self-care had been a direct result of the additional self-loathing. She seemed happier now. Whether or not his warning has been necessary to save her life mattered little compared to relieving the burden she had carried in her heart.

“Solas? You’re staring… again.” She prompted softly when he had walked in silence for too long.

“I was just looking at your face… I mean your vallaslin,” he corrected himself with a shake of his head

She snorted. “You mean my slave markings? Don’t worry I already know. You’re the one who told me, more than once.”

“I see,” he said. He had not witnessed that conversation. Another glance in her direction revealed only an affectionate smile.

“You usually offer to remove them, but I didn’t wear them for the gods or even the Dalish, so I’ve never accepted.”

“Are you certain?” Solas asked. “In the first eluvian I visited, you did not have them.”

“I don’t remember every single detail of every time, but I do think I would remember removing the marks I use to honor my mother.” She laughed. “Though, I am far less sentimental about her memory after all this time.”

His brow furrowed, he had been certain it was not artifice that had hidden her marks. It was the first thing that struck him as incompatible with the personality she had presented while he was with the Inquisition. He stopped walking when he remembered the fate of that eluvian.

“Oh,” he said.

“What?” She stopped and turned to face him.

“I destroyed that eluvian and half a dozen others.”

She swallowed, her smile fading, her eyes tracked from side to side probably searching for gaps in her memories. “I guess that means it never happened.” She smiled again, but it seemed a little forced. “Hope I didn’t forget anything useful.” He had no reply for that so they continued on.

They walked in silence until they arrived at a tower that was mostly ruin.

“I think your place has already been robbed,” Vir said, examining the rubble that littered the area.

Solas chuckled. That had, after all, been the point. “There is a single room at the top, accessible by the stairs.” The stairs lay in pieces at the bottom of the tower. It would require a mage of strength to rebuild them.

“Not very helpful,” she said pacing around the perimeter. The rounded walls were quite smooth, but not perfect. There were cracks and places where nature had won and roots or moss had eaten away at the stone. Enough to act as handholds for a very nimble climber.

“The window is unguarded.”

She looked up at the narrow ledge several stories above the ground and smiled. “Shameful,” she said and began to climb. She had lost her remarkable prosthetic arm to the second assassin and now used more rudimentary replacements, but the climbing attachment gave her an advantage of both reach and grip. She reached the ledge without difficulty, prying open the shutters with a small flat tool while hanging casually from her climbing pick. She gripped the ledge, testing it for soundness and pulled herself up with her good arm. She perched on the windowsill, waiting for him to appear.

“Wards?” she asked.

“Not inside,” he said.

She swung into the room and landed silently, careful not to disturb anything. She need not have worried. The room was sparsely furnished, a single narrow bed and a desk were its only appointments. He had used the room soon after he regained his power, but as his forces expanded he moved to a larger base of operations. He had stored a few things here of moderate importance that he planned to return to eventually.

“Try the box on the desk,” he said. “It is locked.”

“Not warded?”

“I don’t ward everything,” he said with amusement.

“Why not?” she asked, “I would.”

“Locks are usually enough, because most people are not brilliant thieves.” He bowed at her and she smiled. “Wards will often damage people and the things you are trying to protect.”

“That’s so practical. Are you sure you’re a mage?” she said as she walked over to the desk and pulled out a tiny lockpick from her belt. She opened the box, revealing a pendant made of blackened bone. She examined the jaw bone in the light, holding it by the leather cords that bound it.

“You wore this every day while you were with the Inquisition. I asked you about it once. You said it was given to you by a good friend. You were reluctant to elaborate.”

“Yes, I lost them long ago. I do not require it to remember them, but it reminds me of a better time.”

She put the pendant back in the box. “I’m not stealing this.”

“You are not. It is mine and I want you to have it.”

“Solas,” she said.

“Please,” he interrupted. “There is so little I can do for you from here.”

She ran her fingers over the bone and leather, perhaps also remembering a better time. Then she put it on, tucking it into her shirt out of sight. She put her hand over her heart where it rested before looking at him.

“Thank you,” she said simply. She did not wait for an answer, but put everything else back exactly as it had been. She left through the window, quickly making her way to the ground.

 

Vir seemed troubled about something. Solas watched for the third time as she took a breath to speak, but the words died on her lips.

“You should ask, whatever it is,” he said when they neared a stream that would mask the sound of her voice.

“I… don’t know what’s real anymore,” she said quietly.

“You are real,” he said.

“Heh,” she replied, rolling her eyes. She took the opportunity to fill her waterskin.

“That was not a platitude,” he said. “The Fade is manipulated by thought. Things that are solid, that you can taste and touch, does not by necessity make them real. Real is a person who has a purpose, who feels and thinks and makes choices and creates something wholly new from nothing. Real is someone who struggles against what _is_ to make a change to what _can be_.”

“Is it still real if it can be so easily erased or rewritten?” She was thinking of the eluvian field, he had been disturbed by the implications of that as well.

“The ease with which a person may be killed does not define the value of their life.”

“It used to.” She pointed at herself. “Assassin. The value of a person’s life was set by how difficult it was to kill them.”

“What changed you?”

“Time. Paying attention. You.” She smiled. “I figured out long before we met that I had done terrible things. I wanted to do better, even if I couldn’t fix what I’d destroyed, but I had no basis for the concept of good.” She drank from the water skin and bent again to refill it. “That’s why people follow the Chantry or the Evanuris or even Corypheus, but I was never much of a follower. You showed me that free will was important, the right of people to exist, compassion extended to someone because they need it, not because they’ve earned it.”

“You give me too much credit,” he said.

“I did. I was devastated when you revealed that most of that time you didn’t even think we were people.” She looked at his troubled face and smiled again. “But you learned, you saw something in me and you said I changed your mind. If you could do that, then so could I. If you could do that, then maybe you could do it again.” She closed the waterskin and hung it on her pack then continued walking along the stream.

Solas followed, lost in his thoughts. They both knew he had not.

 

Vir traveled deeper into the Brecilian Forest, avoiding any paths or trails. Solas followed, mildly puzzled by her direction. Within weeks his former self would complete the construction of his orb, but he was far to the north in a tower deep within the Arlathan Forest. At this pace and direction, she would never reach it in time.

They arrived at a ruin, hidden from view by the dense overgrowth. It was the remains of a small building, sturdily built, but not even a keep. The humble lords of it had long since vanished and even the modern elves of the area had never found it. An intact eluvian stood against a wall beneath a mural of a tree without leaves.

Solas stared at the gate. It made sense that Vir would know of places that he did not, but he had not expected this. He reached out with his magic, something he had not done since the beginning. He attempted to find the energies of the portal, but it was only a memory of an eluvian and as inert to him as common stone.

“I cannot use that in this form,” he said.

She nodded. “I had guessed as much.” She looked at the mirror then back at him. “It’s almost time.”

“Yes,” he agreed. He felt he should say something, help her in some way, but what good would it do? He would not give her false hope.

“I planned to stay here for a while,” she said, interrupting his thoughts. “It’s safer than waiting around where I would end up.”

Even until the very end, his forces had explored the Brecilian forest searching for ruins precisely like this one. No matter her precautions, this place was not safe. “Really?” he asked.

She grimaced, caught. “No, not really,” she looked away, laughing a little, “but I can stay a while if you like.”

“Please,” was all he managed to say.

She had made preparations for her arrival at the ruin. A large chest stood in the corner covered by roots and other overgrowth. A cursory glance would miss it. Even on closer inspection, it appeared to be part of the original ruin, but there were hints that the vines were younger and did not quite blend in with the rest.

She used her prosthetic to open it. Several plants with razor sharp barbs and sticky leaves grew intertwined with the harmless vines that covered the chest. A natural and perpetual protection, she did not want anyone to tamper with its contents.

Inside was a long leather case, much like the one that had once contained her prosthetic arm. This case was larger and reinforced with a dark metal. She ignored it in favor of the camping kit stored beside it.

She made camp on the stone floor and stretched out on her bedroll. The ceiling of the building was a distant memory, but the canopy of the trees kept most of the elements at bay. A few gaps among the branches revealed the stars. She pressed her hand to her heart where his pendant lay and stared at the sky.

He sat, leaning against the wall next to her head. “Werewolves once roamed this forest,” he said.

She tilted her head back to see if he was serious. She raised her brows when she saw that he was. “I’ve heard of that. Any relation?”

He put his hand over her face and she giggled, swatting through it. “No,” he said with mock sternness. “It was a curse set by the Keeper of one of the clans here. The Hero of Ferelden helped to end it. My agents heard of it from the clan in question, but the story grew each time for the telling.”

“As stories tend to, especially when they involve wolves.” She smiled and closed her eyes. “Tell me.”

He told her the story of Zathrian and his people, a man consumed by grief and vengeance. Of a curse that harmed more than just those who deserved to be punished and perhaps lasted longer than initially intended. He told her of the hero who came with a purpose far greater than one man’s duty. The hero who persuaded him to end it.

In the stories told by his clan, Zathrian saw the wisdom of her words and agreed. In the stories told by others, she drove him to his knees in combat and forced him to listen at the point of a sword. In both versions he gave his life to do what was right. Solas wondered aloud how many stories ended with the death of the hero, the villain, or both. 

She did not answer and he was not certain she even heard the ending. When he looked down at her, she was asleep.

 

Magic was everywhere just as air was everywhere, but the average person was rarely aware of it unless the wind gusted or there was no air at all. Dark energies in the distance sent waves through the Fade. Solas could feel them even displaced as he was through time. Blood magic could do that as very few things could.

Vir still slept, undisturbed by forces that would have roused him to full alertness had he been there in person. The magic did not wake her, but any sound would.

“Vir,” he said in a normal tone and suddenly she was crouched beside him with a dagger in hand. She did not speak, but looked at him expectantly. “There is powerful magic nearby, you should stay here. It is safer if I scout for it first.”

“Be careful,” was all she said.

He left the confines of the hidden ruin and followed the energies to their source. It glowed a sullen red in the distance. His people had once camped near the ruins that lay in that direction.

The Veil was already thin there, having once been occupied by a powerful Spirit of the Forest. A single mage sought to exploit it. Guttural chants identified him as a Venatori cultist. Two red lyrium corrupted creatures stood at his side. Arrayed around him were several prisoners, all bound and shackled, waiting to be sacrificed.

 _Abelas_ , Solas thought with surprise. The rest were his sentinels. A lifeless body already lay at the foot of the cultist. The blood of the sacrifice ran into the runes the mage had carved into the stone floor of the ruin.

“More,” the Venatori demanded, seizing the hair of another elf. He spent her life into his spell.

Abelas had never mentioned this incident. He had survived, obviously, but how? Solas froze with indecision. He could ask Vir for help. He was almost certain she would try, but the mage and his creatures would be too much for her. The best she could provide was a distraction and his people would still be bound.

“The Elder One has will return as I have. Soon I will ascend and stand at my master’s side.” He cast his arms wide and the Veil parted. It was a tiny sliver, not even enough to draw a spirit through, but the mage was undeterred. He offered the life of another elf with a cry exalting the Elder One. A rift opened, just large enough for him to step through.  

The Venatori was nowhere near sane. He would not survive crossing into the Fade in the flesh, but his spell had already begun to warp the area around him. If any spirits were near, their corruption was eminent. Solas was more concerned that his people were still bound. They would be easy prey for the red lyrium beasts, even after the mage’s death, or any demons that were created as a result of his tampering.

The Venatori stepped through the rift, at first his cry triumphant, but it quickly turned to agony. The power he amassed had disappeared and the Fade around him retreated. Someone was using the powers of a Templar to push it back.

The rift collapsed on the Venatori, the energy trapping him and tearing him apart. He spent one final moment searching for the source of his defeat. His eyes fell on a figure half hidden in shadow. He commanded his beasts to attack.

“You cannot kill me,” he hissed, “I will be reborn as the Elder One has promised!”

Solas searched for the attacker himself, but their influence over the Fade made them difficult to see. He tracked the path of the beasts and found the shadowy figure, but there was no Templar, only Vir.

 

Vir held her dagger aloft, pushing back the Fade until the Venatori’s spell collapsed. The mage died screaming, but his beasts continued their charge and Solas was not certain which part of the scene was more horrifying.

Her eyes glowed blue as did her lips and the veins running down her neck, a side-effect of consuming vast quantities of lyrium all at once, but that was only part of it. The weapons she wielded, one a spiky metal prosthetic attached to her arm and the other a long double ended dagger, both glowed with a sickly red energy. Both weapons were enchanted with red lyrium, as dangerous to the wielder as they were to their targets.

She waited until she knew the mage was dead. As soon as the rift collapsed she spun on her heel and ran. One of the beasts had leapt at her to strike. It landed on the spot she had once stood, mere seconds after she moved. The impact of the beast triggered the trap she had placed there. It burst into flames, a column of fire obscuring the creature for a moment. It writhed in place, still alive, but severely wounded. The other was knocked away by the blast, but it seemed otherwise unharmed. It regained it footing and kept running.

It caught up with Vir quickly, forcing her to stand and fight. It was twice her size, but her weapons made her a match for it; they even moved similarly, a sight that made Solas shudder. The beast lunged, its arm seemed to grow even longer in the attack. She parried with her prosthetic, a move augmented by the red lyrium’s corrupted energy. The blow knocked her backward and shattered her weapon, but it also tore off the beast’s arm. It screamed in pain, the blood curdling sound of red lyrium’s crystalline dissonance. Vir used the opportunity to sever the beast’s head, ending its screams permanently.

Solas ran back to the ruin and found his people guarding against a wounded, but still dangerous creature. They were still shackled, but had been able to cast a binding that held it in place. Their efforts kept them alive, but nothing more.

Vir had taken the time to ensure that the other creature was dead. She set it aflame, burning out the blighted lyrium in an attempt to prevent it from spreading.  When she returned she looked at the scene and recognized the impasse. 

“Fuck,” she said.

“We will weaken and the beast will be free to hunt the forest. It will likely search for you after we are dead,” Abelas said.

“It wouldn’t find me,” Vir said.

“We could let it go now, Inquisitor,” he replied.

At that she laughed. “You’re threatening a dead woman,” she said, kneeling in front of the elf she had negotiated with at the Temple of Mythal. “Is this your new duty?” she asked, examining his shackles.

“Not this, but duty brought me here.”

“This is just a lock. I can free you, but I want your word. You will never mention this to anyone and you will not follow me when I leave,” she paused to add, “and I will leave.”

He tilted his head curiously. “How do you know that I will keep my word once I am free?”

She made a sound in the back of her throat, “You would be the one who has to live for eternity knowing you were unable to keep your simple word to a shemlen.”

He wheezed a little. It might have been a laugh or a sign of injury, but he nodded. “You have my word.”

She drew out a lockpick and freed him from his shackles. She picked up her dagger and turned her back to him. “Take my belt knife,” she said, indicating the weapon with a tilt of her head.

It was a ridiculous weapon against a monster, but it was all she could offer and at greater risk to herself than to him. He took it and stood ready.

She leapt in slashing at the beast, trying to hold its attention. The others kept it in place, but could not stop it from making its own attacks. Abelas jumped in when the opportunity presented itself. Slowly they wore the beast down until Vir was able to strike a killing blow. She disposed of the body the same way she had the other, including her own dagger which had become twisted and chipped beyond use. Abelas seemed surprised at that and offered the belt knife back to her.

Solas watched the exchange with some trepidation. Vir was extending too much trust to people who had been told repeatedly of her misdeeds. As the thought occurred to him, wisps of power came up from the ground and wrapped around Vir’s legs. One of his people, still shackled, cast a paralysis spell.

“Vir,” Solas warned.

The elf casting the spell called out in elven, “Kill her now, Abelas.”

Abelas turned and shouted for his mage to stop, but Vir clenched her fist and halted the spell. She grabbed the knife from Abelas’s hand and whipped it across ruin where it lodged in the offending mage’s throat. He slumped forward with a wet gurgle, dead.

The rest of them stared, but made no attempt to harm her further. Abelas held up his hands and bowed his head. “Ir abelas, Inquisitor,” he said.

She nodded and left him to free his remaining people.

They reached Vir’s camp just before dawn. The vine covered chest in the corner stood open, as did the now empty reinforced weapon case. Solas made note of it, but intended to remain silent.

Vir rolled her eyes. “You may as well say it,” she said.

“Did you know the Venatori would be there?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have known what was happening if you hadn’t woke me and I never stay out here for long at this point.”

“Then those weapons were not for him,” Solas concluded. “They were for me. You were planning to use them to kill me, were you not?” It was not an accusation, only a question.

“It was an option,” she admitted.  

“And now you no longer have them.”

She actually smiled. “It wasn’t my preferred option.”

He refused to find the humor in it. He had seen the power of the weapons and her ability to suppress the Fade. “Had you used them, you might have succeeded. You could have stopped me. You could have killed me.”

She shrugged as she started a smokeless fire. She sat stiffly on the floor, leaning back against the wall as the last of the lyrium and adrenaline wore off. She patted the floor next to her. “We both know that I didn’t. Now we know why.”


	15. Fond Farewell Heard

 

“Was it worth it?” Vir asked when Solas had settled next to her. “The world you’ve created from the ashes of mine?”

It was not a question that one could pose kindly and Solas felt he deserved a far harsher depiction. He thought about his people and the despair he had seen, she deserved an honest answer. “I do not know yet,” he said. “They are hurt and afraid, they fight amongst themselves, not so differently from your people, but I could not let them die without doing everything I could to save them. Can you understand that?”

“Of course,” she answered.

“Really?” The question had been bothering him ever since they first spoke of her past lives. She had deftly evaded the topic when he initially brought it up. “Then why did you not kill me when you had the chance?” he asked. “All this fighting could have been avoided if you had simply taken my life while I was less powerful.”

“I…” she faltered, “I was never certain that I could defeat Corypheus without your aid.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, “You arranged to defeat my forces from an apothecary shop in Wycome, you could have killed Corypheus without getting out of bed.”

“That’s an exaggeration,” she said looking away.

“Did you ever really beat me at chess?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said defensively.

“Did you say check mate or did I concede?”

“You never conceded,” she evaded.

“Therefore you said, ‘check mate.’”

“Not… exactly. The words aren’t really necessary.”

He narrowed his eyes, “It was a draw wasn’t it?” He shook his head in disgust at having missed it, “Our match lasted hours longer than any I have ever played. I thought you were making mistakes, but no, every move was intentional.”

She stared at the fire and shook her head.

“Why would you do that? Why do you still do it? All you have attempted to do was prevent me from completing my orb. Look at you now, you gave up your best chance to kill me. You spared a few of my people likely at the cost of all of yours. You’ve known of this eluvian all along. You could have sent assassins to kill me. You could have planned an assassination yourself. Isn’t that how wars are fought?” he threw her words back at her. “Why would you not fight to save your people? How could you not fight to win?”

“Because a draw between you and me is a win.” She said finally looking at him in exasperation. “It’s the only way for us to win.”

“You could have saved your people’s lives.”

“And then what? Then maybe another Corypheus comes along or maybe the Veil falls on its own. You saw the mage out there.” She waved vaguely at the ruins in helpless frustration. “What if there are others just like him? Do you think I want your people to die slowly or remain asleep forever? Do you think I want my people to be slaves or nomads at the fringe of society waiting in vain for the false gods that ruled them to return? I don’t want any of that. I want the world to be right, my people free and yours restored. I want people to understand Cole and Wisdom and appreciate them as they are. But I don’t know how to do that and, believe me, no one else does either. You are the only one who could have found a way. I was just trying to force you to _look_. You were my hope. _Killing_ you would be giving up and I haven’t yet.” She made a frustrated sound and pressed her head against her knees.

At first the thought offended him, he had studied the Veil and its effects extensively until the moment he tore it down. He had not wanted to destroy Thedas to save his people. The problem was that finding an alternative may have taken longer than they could afford, but she was right. It had been his choice not to take that risk. He sighed. “I did not believe there was another solution within my grasp. If I looked, I feared I would run out of time before I found it. You once accused me of being unable to accept the consequences of my mistakes. Perhaps you were right. I did not want to fail my people again, thus I did not search for a better way.”

“I know,” she said, all the frustration gone and only resignation in her voice. It was the same way she had spoken to him in the end. “I told you. I understand.”

 

Vir slept for most of the next day. Solas told her stories when she was awake and kept watch when she was not. She looked so frail to him now, it was not what he remembered in the end. Had he simply failed to notice or had things changed. Could they still? 

Her eyes fluttered open and she smiled when he was the first thing she saw. She sat up and stretched, rolling her shoulders and tousling her already tousled hair. “I’m getting too old to sleep on stone floors,” she joked. 

He did his best to laugh. He was not certain he succeeded. “How were you planning to destroy my orb?” he asked. “It is heavily warded.”

“I still have enough lyrium to get past your wards.”

“But do you know where they are? The tower is heavily guarded, I did not want you to disrupt my plans.”

“I have some insight into what you’ve done before. I’m also moderately resourceful.”

He smiled at that. “No doubt, but allow me to tell you where they are and how to bypass the guards.”

She looked stunned for a moment and inhaled sharply. “All right,” she agreed.

The spark of hope in her eyes almost broke his resolve, but he continued before he could falter. “Each floor of the tower is patrolled by two guards. They walk the length of it, north to south, then east to west. There is no guard change for a full day, but there will be a time when there is only one guard, it occurs every eight hours, beginning at dawn. The orb is located in a shielded room. You will need to get to the third floor of the tower.”

Her brow arched, but she said nothing.

“The end of the corridor is unguarded but each chamber is sealed by a ward.”

“Solas,” she said gently.

“There is a suite of rooms located there-” he said, ignoring the interruption.

“Solas,” she said again. “That is not where the orb is. Your orb is in the center of the tower on the fifth floor.”

“If you can get to the suite, there is a shielding device,” he continued stubbornly. “It does not require a mage to activate it. The shields are powerful, with them you would survive the initial removal of the Veil.”

“And what? I stay in the room until you find me and kill me.”

“No, you could escape, then I would search for you. I would find you in my time.”

“You want me to give up? You want me to stop trying to save my people?”

He stared at her, shaking his head. She was so stubborn, so impossible. “But you failed, you died,” he said brokenly, bowing his head. “I watched you die.”

“If you think we can change that, then can’t we change everything?” she said. “Tell me how to convince you to stop.”

“You know there was nothing you could have said.”

“Then tell me how to destroy your orb. Would it explode if I touched it like the last time?”

“No. I designed it not to. I designed it to kill you. I designed it to kill _you_ if you touched it.” It made him want to scream with frustration. “Even if you had the power to get past my wards you would fail.”

“Solas, I cannot fail this time.”  She leaned as close to him as she could. “Either I succeed and I fight on or I die and we’re at peace.”

“Please, vhenan,” he begged. He did not know if he had the right to call her that, but it was the truth. She was his heart, she always had been. “I don’t want to lose you.”

She smiled at the name, at his words, but she shook her head. “I’m already gone,” she said and the sadness in her eyes was only for him. “But I have had more than a thousand lives and ten thousand years.” She placed her hand over her heart where his pendant rested, “I am so grateful that I was able to love you in every one of them.”

His body cried in a room far away and tears slipped down his cheeks here as well. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” he said. He took the time to study her face, committing every part of it to memory. “There are four wards around the orb,” he said, “three of them can be suppressed the way a Templar would, but the last-”

His voice cut out as a searing pain overwhelmed him. He doubled over.

“Solas!” Vir cried. He looked up and her face began to fade. He tried to hold on to the vision, to force out the words that would help her, but the agony wrenched him away.

He woke, screaming, with Cole hovering at his side.

The spirit’s voice was low and frightened. “They’re tearing down your field.”

 

“Who is?” Solas asked, but he already knew the answer. 

“She nudges when history requires,” Cole said. “Sometimes she shoves.”

The room spun as Solas stood, he struggled to move to the door even as each step brought him new pain. Another lash of agony sent him reeling and he fell against his desk. 

His eyes fell to where the bone pendant sat on a pile of books in the corner. He pulled it on over his head, clutching it in his hand. It was the last thing Vir had touched.

Scholars had once argued that the past could not be altered without expending a vast amount of power. That power floated freely in the air surrounding the last eluvian. Mythal stood beside it attempting to harness the tempest they had unleashed.

“Stop this,” he shouted over the storm as he reached the edge of the field.

“No choice, Dread Wolf,” they hissed. “The Evanuris are awake, they are fighting to get out, and it’s exactly what the people think they want. It is time to finish what we began. You must either live in the new world or stay trapped in the old one.” Mythal smiled and it was chilling, “I know which I prefer.”

They conjured a dragon and sent it across the field. It circled above him, breathing down a billowing storm of flame. A shadowy wolf emerged from the Fade, shielding him from the dragon’s attack. It leaped into the air, its massive jaws snapping, forcing the dragon to retreat.

Pass after pass, the constructs clashed, but neither gained an advantage. Solas focused his will into a lance of green energy and sent it into the sky as the dragon ascended. When it turned, the lance found its heart and it fell with a scream that could shatter glass. Its magic dissolved and it returned to the Fade before it could hit the ground.

Mythal redoubled their efforts to steal the power of the storm, but Solas called his orb to his hand and siphoned the power away. The storm was bound only to him and it was his will that it obeyed.

Mythal cast fire and lightning in his path, but their attacks splashed harmlessly against his shields. He closed in on his old friend, the exhilaration of near infinite power overriding the pain of the field’s destruction.

“You have no idea how this may have altered our reality,” he said, “you do not understand the chaos you have unleashed.”

“I am not the first to do such a thing am I?” they laughed mockingly. “What I have changed matters not. I would use this power to reshape the world as it should be. As you should have done from the beginning. So, what will you do now? Cut me down again?” Mythal’s glittering eyes showed no signs of remorse or fear. It was as if his decision was merely a curiosity, but that was how it had always been.

“No,” he said, closing the orb and the storm subsided. “But you will leave this place and tamper with it no more. I will salvage what I can from what you have done.”

Mythal left without a backward glance, walking slowly into the depths of the Fade. Perhaps they would help their people fight or perhaps they would disappear as well. At this point it no longer mattered to the People or to him.

The last eluvian glowed with power in the center of the field. Like the ones that had been destroyed, it was somehow bound to him. He found the thread of magic that linked him to the spell and followed it until he reached its heart, discovering its terrible secret.

Vir’s spirit lay at the core, anchoring the world with her memories. There she slept in darkness, not dead, but a prisoner in a cell that only one person could have built. The spell was not malicious. It was meant to save her life, but there were fates far worse than death and to Solas this was one of them.

_Dareth shiral, vhenan_. He thought as he worked to set her free. The eluvian warped and twisted, resisting his efforts. Its purpose was to protect her even from its own creator. Solas poured more power into the work and forced it to unravel. 

Vir screamed in the darkness, her pain echoing through their shared connection. Solas reached for her unthinkingly, reacting to her distress.

The spell took advantage of his distraction and pulled him into its web.  

 

Solas became a part of the mirror’s spell, forced to witness his monstrous self as he tried to keep Vir with him at the end. A beast in more than appearance, he had lost control of his mind and his magic. When his clumsy attempts at shielding failed, he tried to give his life for hers, but he only managed to bind her soul to his and trap her in his world.

The People feared the beast of the Fade whose grief corrupted all he touched. He was too powerful for them to fight and too dangerous to ignore. They prayed to the gods to save them, but he had already seen them destroyed.

Whether it was their prayers that had summoned her or his own howls of distress, Mythal came to free him with Morrigan as her host.

Solas observed from his place in the eluvian, recognizing the spell as she began to cast. It was the spell she had used on Ghilan'nain and Andruil and now he knew the spell for what it was. When she was merciful it would cleanse a spirit, when she was not it would destroy it for all time.

“I’m sorry, old friend,” Mythal said, but before she could complete the spell her sympathetic smile curled into a snarl of rage.

“Sorry?” Morrigan cried. “He killed my son.” She fought for control her body and the spell began to change.

Even as he was, the monster realized his fate would also be Vir’s.  Terrified, he took her spirit and cast it as far away from himself as he could.

This was the moment. Solas thought. The moment that he sent Vir back, but the monster did not have the skill and failure meant her soul’s destruction. Bound to the eluvian or erased from existence, both choices were fates worse than death.

Solas caught Vir’s spirit himself and sentenced her to her fate.

He followed her through time, unwilling to let her walk alone. Each place she traveled, each path she chose, he watched and mourned what he had done, but each time she failed to change his mind, he sent her back again.

Despite her confusion, she did not despair, and Solas felt compelled to follow her example.

“The Veil is thin here,” his counterpart would muse and Solas could see that it was.

He studied the area from his place in the spell, noticing details that had been hidden before. When he first woke, he had been repulsed by his new reality. He could only see its flaws. From his place in the spell, he could observe the world with a detachment that had been impossible before.

Vir traveled far in her efforts to stop him and as she learned of her world so did he.

There were places where the Veil was thin and others where it had faded to nothing. There were gaps where rifts formed naturally and spirits roamed unhindered.

When he cast the Veil it had been a uniform barrier, a cloak of magic cast over the land. While it was meant to change the world, it was the world that had given the Veil its shape. Now Solas knew that shape and how he could change it to help his people.

He followed Vir through her final life and faced her as an enemy. She smiled as she faded away, her love for him enduring beyond all his unforgivable actions. There was no Morrigan to fight this time and no reason to send Vir back. The spiral of eluvians ended and the spell finally let him go.

Solas came to himself alone in the eluvian field surrounded by mirrors once again. He had somehow restored what Mythal had destroyed and more than that,he had an answer. Vir had been right, there was a way to save both worlds, and he was the only one who could have found it. It only took him ten thousand years.

He could go back to her now and tell her the answer. She would remember and his past self would listen. They could save both worlds. They could change everything, but all they had lost in their war would still be gone and they would still be enemies.  

He would never go back to find her. He would still lose her.

It was selfish, he knew. It was cruel, he knew that as well, but he reached for her as gently as he could and hoped she could forgive him one more time.

“I’m sorry, vhenan,” he whispered to her spirit and watched it echo through her many lives. “You must walk this path a little longer.”


	16. Wake Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last one is short. Thank you so much for reading.

 

Solas sent Vir back the way he had a thousand lives before. Then he wove himself into the spell and followed her through time. He opened his eyes and found himself on the path by the frozen river. Cassandra and Varric stared at him expectantly.

“Solas?” Cassandra said trying to capture his attention, she seemed even more irritated than the last time they had been here.

“Apologies, Seeker,” he said. “What were you saying?”

“I asked if you knew where she went,” Cassandra said. “I doubt she would run away out here.”

“You don’t think?” Varric said from behind them. “It’s never too late to start running.”

“The mark may be causing her pain,” Solas said. “I will see if there is something I can do for her.” He turned and walked back up the path.

He found Vir standing near the rubble where the road had been blocked. She faced away from him and though he did not attempt to hide his approach, she did not appear to notice his presence. There was no version of Vir where that appearance would be true. Her shoulders tensed when he drew near. She turned.

“Vhenan?” he said softly.

She gasped, stumbled backwards, and fell. The dagger she had clutched in her hand, slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground between them. She stared up at him in shock. Her mouth opened but only puffs of breath emerged.

He picked up the dagger and knelt before her. He held the point of it over his heart and offered her the pommel. Her eyes widened in recognition.

She grasped the dagger, shaking and afraid. She pressed the tip of it into his coat as she fought back tears. He held his breath, making no attempt at defense and waited for her judgment.

“Why?” she asked when she was finally able to speak, “Were your people not as happy as you hoped? Did you think you would just try again now that you know?” The anguish in her voice broke his heart.

“No,” he said, “I found a way to save both worlds, but I will not lie, the world I left behind had lost so many. I hoped we could save more if we could try again.”

“That’s the reason,” she said, not bothering to hide her skepticism.

“Not the only reason,” he replied, “the other was selfish.”

She looked surprised for a moment then scrambled to her feet, keeping the dagger in place. He rose slowly neither closing nor retreating. The Breach expanded and the mark flared. She whimpered and clenched her fist, trying to ignore it. He reached for her, pushing into the point of the dagger until he could take her hand. He shielded her against the pain and cursed his own weakness for not being able to do more.

“So what happens now?” She asked, pulling her hand away.

He released her and clasped his hands behind his back, trying not to show his disappointment. “Now, we seal the Breach.”

“And after?”

“We save our people, all of our people.”

“And if you can’t find a way, if it doesn’t work, what then?”

“I will keep searching for as long as I can,” he promised.

“Really? Wouldn’t it be tempting just to destroy it all if you fail?”  

“It would,” he admitted, “but you were right. Both worlds are worth saving and it is the only way for anyone to win.” It was the truth, he only hoped she would believe him. He waited as the point of the dagger burrowed deeper into the fabric of his coat, whether by intent or the shaking of her hand he could not be certain.

“Var lath vir suledin?” he asked softly.

His words broke the spell of her indecision and disbelief. She cast the dagger aside and threw herself into his arms. A small cry of relief slipped past his lips. “Ir abelas, vhenan,” he whispered into her hair.

“I almost killed you,” she said tearfully, her hands twisting in the fabric of his coat. “Couldn’t you have said anything else when you sent me back this time?”

He supposed he could have, but it may not have made a difference. “I fear that I am the only one who has ever said it.”

She pulled away enough so that she could look up at him. “Oh, Solas, what did you do?”

“I am not certain, vhenan,” he said, both fear and elation conspiring to make his voice shake, “but I promise I will never hurt you again.”

His fingers brushed away the tears that had frozen on her cheeks and his eyes could not help but focus on her lips. It was not the right time. It was certainly not the right place. Still he wanted-

Vir clutched the front of his jacket. “Kiss me quick before Cassandra comes back,” she demanded.

He let out a startled laugh and wrapped his arms around her once again. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips to hers and despite her request it was not quick. A single kiss, soft and slow, a singular promise that they would have time for many more. It was she who finally broke the kiss, flushed and out of breath. Then he held her for as long as he could until they heard Cassandra coming up the path.

They followed the Seeker to the Breach to meet their new future. Still in danger, still with many battles ahead, but he had his heart and she had her hope.

_Var lath vir suledin._

She had been right. It could.

 


End file.
